Never Say Never: The Formidable Following
by TheWriter51
Summary: Pt5 ofmy story books TCC-TGG: Jane andthe Baudelaires have found shelter in the confines of Count Olaf's car in order to unravel secrets and avoid the authorities, but in a story where misery isn't far behind, will it bring them closer or tear them apart?
1. Caligari Carnival

**I'm back with part five of my story Never Say Never. This part will contain books TCC to TGG:**

**Summary: In the next installment of the story, the Baudelaires and Jane find themselves, once again, in dire circumstances, especially, riding in the car of the villainous Count Olaf and his associates. As the Baudelaires and Jane dig deeper into the secrets of V.F.D. as well as the Snicket file, the survivor of a mysterious fire, and Jane's real parents, they just might find the answers to their questions, but could it also unravel more mysteries that are yet to be solved? Meanwhile, Jane and Klaus' being apart from each other only seems to bring them closer and closer together, but when their love and friendship is tested by the appearance of Fiona Widdershins, will it bring them even closer or will it tear them apart?**

**Enjoy! And remember to R&R!**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own ASOUE or any of the characters except for my OC. (i wish i did though)**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Caligari Carnival<strong>

There was a rumble and a long creak, waking me from a light doze. Beneath me, the floor was hard and smelled like alcohol and feet. Something was poking me in the side and when I looked, I saw someone was nudging me with their shoe. To my dismay, the person had a long nose and was completely bald. My least favorite of Count Olaf's associates. He kicked me again and the others laughed. I frowned, and scooted farther away, but there wasn't much room so I was stuck with them poking me and laughing. I didn't see why it was so funny to poke someone.

"Stop poking me," I said in frustration, whacking his shoe away with my hand.

He glared at me and then, kicked me in the side.

"Ow," I said, while the others laughed.

"Quiet orphan," Olaf growled. "I give orders around here, not you."

That made the bald man smirk and heave another kick at me.

"But," Olaf went on, "as much as I hate the orphan, she still is the owner of that enormous fortune and she can't be in poor condition. We don't want her to die before she turns eighteen." Olaf took his eyes off the road to give me a wicked smile. I shuddered.

"Then we wouldn't be helping out with the greater good," Esmé said.

"Money," Olaf cried.

"Are we there yet?" the hook-handed man said suddenly.

"I told you not to ask me that anymore," Olaf replied bitterly. "We'll get there when we get there, and that is that."

"Could we possibly make a short stop?" asked one of the white-faced women. "I noticed a sign for a rest station in a few miles."

"We don't have time to stop anywhere," Olaf said sharply. "If you needed to use the bathroom, you should have gone before we left."

"But the hospital was on fire," the powder-faced woman complained.

"Yes, let's stop," the bald man said, "We haven't had anything to eat since lunch, and my stomach is grumbling."

For once I was in agreement with Olaf's associates. I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten or gone to the bathroom. So I desperately needed to stop.

"We can't stop," Esmé said, "There are no restaurants out here in the hinterlands that are in."

"But my legs are falling asleep," I couldn't help whining.

"I thought I told you to be quiet," Olaf growled, "unless you want to spend the rest of the car ride, strapped to the roof."

Olaf's associates snickered. I frowned and let out a long sigh. I wished there was at least a window to look out of while I was stuck in here. There was more silence until the hook-handed man spoke up again.

"Boss, are you sure it's safe to be way out here? If the police come looking for us, there'll be no place to hide."

"We could always disguise ourselves again," the bald man said. "Everything we need is in the trunk of the car."

"We don't need to hide," Olaf answered, "and we don't need to disguise ourselves, either. Thanks to that silly reporter at _The Daily Punctilio_, the whole world thinks I'm dead, remember?"

"You never explained what happened when Babs interfered with your announcements," Esmé said, "I was worried we would be caught."

"Babs is dead, of course," Count Olaf said, "but someone decided to sneak around in my office and impersonate Babs. Luckily, I found the pest and it should have burned alive in that hospital by now. That brat tried to steal the Murray file, though, I can't imagine why."

Olaf's head turned in my direction.

"I had nothing to do with it, I swear," I said, quickly, my arms rising protectively in front of my face in case he tried to hit me.

"Of course it wasn't her," Esmé said, "the orphan was in the operating theater helping bookworm and bucktooth save their bratty sister."

"Right," Olaf said, but his eyes grew very shiny as he turned his attention back to the road. "But soon, very soon, we'll find those Baudelaire murderers, and get their fortune."

"With everyone thinking your dead it'll be easy," Esmé said, "We don't need to hide—we need to celebrate!"

"We can't celebrate yet," Olaf said. "There are two last things we need to do. First, we need to destroy the last piece of evidence that could send us to jail."

"The Snicket file," Esmé said.

"Yes, of course," the hook-handed man said. "We have to find the Snicket file. But what's the second thing?"

"I just told you," Olaf snarled, "we have to find the Baudelaires, you idiot. If we don't find them, then we can't steal their fortune, and all of my schemes will be a waste."

"I haven't found your schemes to be a waste," one of the white faced women said. I rolled my eyes. They were such suck ups. "I've enjoyed them very much, even if we haven't gotten the fortune."

"Do you think all three of those bratty orphans got out of the hospital alive?" the bald man asked.

"Those children seem to have all the luck in the world," Count Olaf said, "so they're all probably alive and well, but it would sure make things easier if one or two of them burned to a crisp. We only need one of them alive to get the fortune."

"I hope it's Sunny," the hook-handed man said. "It was fun putting her in a cage, and I look forward to doing it again."

"I myself hope it's Violet," Olaf said, "She's the prettiest."

I scowled, disgusted by this conversation. "I hope it's none of them," I said, firmly.

I expected Olaf to hit me or stick to his word about sticking me to the roof, but instead he laughed mockingly. "We all know who _you_ want it to be," Olaf said, "which is why I'm going to make sure that bookworm meets a _very_ sticky end."

"Well, I won't have to worry," I said, trying to make my voice sound braver than I felt, "because you won't be getting any of the Baudelaires. I'll make sure of that."

"We'll see how well you do with your hands missing," Olaf hissed in a terrible voice, "I may not be able to kill you, but a severed limb would do just fine."

Olaf and his associates laughed cruelly. Only Esmé was silent.

"I don't care who it is," Esmé said, changing the subject, "I just want to know where they are."

"Well, Madame Lulu will know," Olaf said. "With her crystal ball, she'll be able to tell us where the orphans are, where the files are, and anything else we want to know."

"I never believed in things like crystal balls," one of the white-faced women remarked, "but when this Madame Lulu started telling you how to find the Baudelaires every time they escaped, I learned that fortune-telling is real."

"Stick with me," Olaf said, "and you'll learn lots of new things. Oh, here's the turn for Rarely Ridden Road. We're almost there."

The car lurched to the left and I rolled with it to the left side of the car. Rarely Ridden Road seemed to suit this path well, since it was so bumpy, I couldn't imagine many people would want to travel down it.

There was silence until Olaf pulled the car to a stop.

"Are we there yet?" the hook-handed man asked.

"Of course we're here, you fool," Olaf said. "Look, there's the sign—Caligari Carnival."

"Where is Madame Lulu?" the bald man asked.

"Where do you think?" Esmé asked, and everyone laughed. The car doors opened and I was practically trampled as Olaf's assistants got out, remembering to give me kicks in the head as they did.

When they were all out, I crawled out of the cramped space in the car and stepped out.

"Hurry up, orphan!" Olaf growled as I stepped onto the unpaved road where the car was parked. "You're slowing us down."

"Should I get the wine out of the trunk, boss?" the bald man asked.

I froze.

"No," Count Olaf replied, "The orphan will get it for us."

With one hand, Olaf shoved me toward the trunk so I fell on the pavement, scraping my knees. I glowered up at them as Olaf's associates laughed cruelly. A sudden breeze picked up, whipping my hair against my face. Olaf's associates didn't seem to notice as they trudged away from the car, following Olaf and Esmé to a caravan marked with an eye on it.

I got up off the ground and brushed the dirt off of my knees, which oozed with blood. I didn't realize the bald man had lingered behind until I looked to see him leaning against the car.

My eyebrows furrowed with worry and the wind picked up.

He stepped towards me, grabbing my arm. He leaned forward so he could talk without anyone hearing.

"Listen, Blondie," he growled. "You may have gotten away from me last time, but I can assure you the next time I catch you alone, there'll be no escape."

"Stay away from me," I spat, and spit in his face to make my point. The wind around us, and I could see the few trees around us swaying.

The bald man roared and threw me back, so I fell against the car, falling to the ground again. As I fell the wind continued to blow even harder so that with a loud snap, one of the branches broke off a tree and soared towards the bald man. It caught him off guard, smacking him in the face so he stumbled back and fell down. The branch blew away as the wind died down and I stared with wide eyes at the bald man as he clutched a bloody nose. I couldn't help but chuckle at his puzzled expression.

He got up quickly and stepped toward me.

"You're lucky I'm not allowed to kill you," he snarled. He aimed a kick at my stomach, and then turned to follow Olaf and his associates away from the car. I clutched my aching stomach as I waited for them to enter a caravan a little ways away. When they were gone, I ignored the pains in my stomach and hurried over to the trunk. It flew open, exposing the Baudelaires, still curled up in its depths.

"Baudelaires," I whispered, "it's me, Jane."

All three Baudelaires poked their heads out of the trunk. I grabbed hold of Violet's hand, and helped her out of the trunk, followed by Klaus, and then, Sunny.

Immediately, I embraced each of them, squeezing them tighter than ever.

"Are you okay?" I asked as I pulled away.

"Yes," Violet said, "it was a little cramped in there, but we're fine."

"Yupa," Sunny said in agreement.

"It doesn't look like you're okay, though," Klaus said, looking at my scraped knees with a frown. "What was the bald man talking about?"

I averted my eyes. "Nothing," I said, "I'm fine. It's just a little scrape."

Klaus didn't look convinced, but he didn't say anything more about it.

"But Klaus you should've seen it," I added, glancing up at the tree with a broken branch. "The wind was so strong before that it broke that branch off of that tree and whacked the bald man in the nose." I giggled. "It was so funny."

"I thought I heard something," Klaus said, and chuckled. But then he frowned and exchanged glances with Violet who shared his puzzled expression.

"But how could that have happened?" Violet asked, "wind doesn't just appear out of the blue like that and that tree isn't close enough to the car for it to hit the bald man in the face. It doesn't make any sense. Are you sure that's what happened?"

I nodded and then, looked at Klaus. Simultaneously, we both realized what could explain how it happened, but could we explain it to Violet and Sunny?

"Well, never mind that. Now that we're out of the trunk," Klaus said, changing the focus for which I was glad. It would be too difficult to explain it to Violet and Sunny. Klaus, at least, experienced those strange Matilda like powers so he didn't think I was that crazy. "We'd better get out of the area. Olaf and his troupe could get back any minute."

"But where are we going to go?" Violet asked. "We're in the hinterlands. Olaf's comrade said there was no place to hide."

"Well, we'll have to find one," Klaus said. "It can't be safe to hang around any place where Count Olaf is welcome."

"Eye!" Sunny agreed, pointing to Madame Lulu's caravan, which indeed had an eye painted on it.

"But we can't go wandering around the countryside again," Violet said. "The last time we did that, we ended up in even more trouble."

"Maybe we could call the police from that phone booth," I said.

"Dragnet!" Sunny said, which meant "But the police think we're murderers!"

"I suppose we could try to reach Mr. Poe," Violet said. "He didn't answer the telegram we sent him asking for help, but maybe we'll have better luck on the phone."

We looked at each other doubtfully.

"It's probably a slim chance that he'll be of any help," I said, "but what have we got to lose?"

"Let's not think about that," Klaus replied, "Maybe Mr. Poe will at least allow us to explain ourselves."

"Veriz," Sunny reminded us, meaning, "We'll need money to make a phone call."

"I don't have any," Klaus said, reaching into his pockets, "Do you have any, Violet?"

Violet shook her head. "What about you, Jane?" she asked.

"I don't have any money either," I said.

"Let's call the operator and see if there's some way we can place a call without paying for it."

Klaus nodded and opened the door of the telephone booth so we could squeeze inside. Violet lifted the receiver and dialed O for operator, while Klaus lifted up Sunny so we could all hear.

"Operator," said the operator.

"Good evening," Violet said. "My siblings, our friend, and I would like to place a call."

"Please deposit the proper amount of money," the operator said.

"We don't have the proper amount of money," Violet said. "We don't have any money at all. But this is an emergency."

"What is the exact nature of your emergency?" the operator replied with a sigh.

"Well," Violet began, "my name is Violet Baudelaire, and I'm here with my brother, Klaus, my sister, Sunny, and our friend, Jane Rumary. our names might sound familiar to you, because The Daily Punctilio has recently published an article saying that we're Veronica, Klyde, and Susie Baudelaire, and that we're murders who killed Count Omar. But Count Omar is really Count Olaf, and he's not really dead. He faked his death by killing another person with the same tattoo, and framed us for murder. Recently he destroyed a hospital while trying to capture us, but we managed to hide in the trunk of his car as he drove off with his comrades. Now we've gotten out of the trunk, and we're trying to reach Mr. Poe so he can help us get ahold of the Snicket file, which we think might explain what the initials V.F.D. stand for, and if one of our parents survived the fire after all and about Jane's parents because her name is really Jamie Murray who's parents died a long time ago for mysterious reasons. I know it's a very complicated story, and it may seem unbelievable to you, but we're all by ourselves in the hinterlands and we don't know what else to do."

Violet had been crying a little as she explained our long, complicated story and she brushed a tear away from her eye as we waited for a reply. But there was no response.

"Hello?" Violet said finally.

Still, there was nothing.

"Hello?" Violet said again. "Hello? Hello?"

The telephone did not answer.

"Hello?" Violet said a little louder.

"Violet, I think he hung up," I said, softly.

"But why isn't anyone answering?" Violet cried.

"I don't know," Klaus said, "but I don't think the operator will help us."

Violet hung up the phone and we stepped out of the phone booth.

"Who will help us?" she asked. "Who will take care of us?"

"We'll have to take care of ourselves," Klaus said.

"Ephrai," Sunny said, meaning, "But we're in real trouble now."

"We sure are," Violet agreed. "We're in the middle of nowhere, with no place to hide, and the whole world thinks we're criminals. How do criminals take care of themselves out in the hinterlands?"

Suddenly, we heard a burst of laughter and we could see several shadows move across the window, and we could tell Count Olaf and his troupe were inside, chatting and laughing.

Then, the door to the caravan began to open.

"Get down," I whispered to the Baudelaires, who quickly got on their hands and knees, crawling behind the car where they wouldn't be seen. I hurried over to the still open trunk.

"Orphan!" Olaf hollered, "What's taking you so long? You better not be trying to escape! There's no place to hide out here!" Olaf peered out at me, looking impatient.

"I'm coming," I said, grabbing the wine bottles and hurrying over to the caravan.

"What were you doing out there?" Olaf growled.

"I-I just wanted to watch the sunset," I lied.

He grabbed my arm and dragged me inside then he snatched the bottles of wine from my hands.

I was left standing at the front door looking around the caravan. Sitting at a small round table in front of me, were Esmé Squalor and Olaf's comrades.. They paid no attention to me as they were all too busy eating snacks and drinking wine, except for the bald man who glowered at me, his nostrils flaring.

"We brought wine, Madame Lulu," Olaf was saying to a woman wearing a long, shimmering robe that seemed to change colors as she moved, and a turban that looked a lot like the one Count Olaf used for his disguise as Coach Genghis. She had dark, piercing eyes, with two dramatic eyebrows. "Why don't you put it away in your fridge and we'll have it later?"

"Thank you, my Olaf, please," she said, taking the wine and moving to a small kitchen to put it away. Olaf sat down at the table and I inched my way farther inside, feeling a little out of place.

"And who is this?" Madame Lulu asked as she came over to the table, gawking at me curiously.

"That's one of the orphans," Count Olaf said as he took a long sip of wine.

"A Baudelaire?" Madame Lulu asked.

"No," Esmé said, "the one Olaf's had in his clutches for quite some time."

"So _this_ is the Jane Rumary," Madame Lulu said.

"Except that she's not Jane Rumary," the hook-handed man said.

"What do you mean, please?" Madame Lulu asked.

"She's Abigail's daughter," Count Olaf said sounding triumphant, "Jamie Murray."

Madame Lulu's eyes widened, her eyebrows raised.

"How do you know, please?" Madame Lulu asked.

"The orphan led me right to the Murray file," Count Olaf said, "it's about the only time she's been useful. But I knew it was her the moment I laid eyes on her. Abigail had those same eyes and her hair, of course, was the same color. I got the chance to read the file and though it was nothing new to me, it did have some documents about their tragic death. I warned Abigail not to play with fire."

"Does this upset you?" Madame Lulu asked, suddenly, looking at Esmé who's eyes were glued to the table. Esmé glanced up and gave Madame Lulu one of those looks that I knew all too well. Carmelita used to look at me that way when she was trying to sound nice and sweet, but her eyes told me she was the exact opposite.

"Well, of course it upsets me," Esmé said, her expression hard, "Abigail was my sister."

"Of course," Madame Lulu replied.

"But that's not important right now," Count Olaf said, shifting the focus, "now that I've discovered who she really is, I'll be getting an even bigger fortune and then, you will have enough money to support your carnival business. Now I just need to capture the Baudelaires."

"They've been very difficult to capture," the hook-handed man said.

"Do not worry of the children, please," Madame Lulu replied. "My crystal ball tells me that my Olaf will prevail."

"If that means 'murder innocent children,'" one of the powder-faced women said, "then that's the best news we've heard all day."

"'Prevail' means 'win,'" Olaf said, "but in my case that's the same thing as killing those Baudelaires and Jamie, of course. Exactly when does the crystal ball say I will prevail, Lulu?"

"Very soon, please," Madame Lulu replied. "Now, why don't you have a seat?" It took me a moment to realize she was talking to me. Madame Lulu held out an empty chair for me at the table.

"The orphan can stand," Olaf said, shoving the chair back under the table.

"But my Olaf, you mustn't neglect to feed the child, please," she said, "she's all skin and bones. You won't get fortune if girl dies, please."

"Well, then she may lick our plates when we're done," Olaf snarled, more to me than Madame Lulu.

But Madame Lulu ignored him and got me a small plate of corn and chicken. She directed me to sit in the empty chair which was unfortunately in between the bald man and Count Olaf, but I was too hungry to care. I could've eaten the entire meal if I was allowed. I was so hungry that I had to stop myself from devouring the chicken bone and the cob of the corn too.

"What gifts have you brought me from your traveling, my Olaf?" Madame Lulu said, diverting the subject so that Olaf was no longer glowering at me.

"Well, let's see," Olaf replied. "There's a lovely pearl necklace I stole from one of the nurses at Heimlich Hospital."

"You promised me I could have that," Esmé said. "Give her one of those crow hats you snatched from the Village of Fowl Devotees."

"I tell you, Lulu," Olaf said, "your fortune-telling abilities are amazing. I never would have guessed that the Baudelaires were hiding out in that stupid town, but your crystal ball knew right away."

"Magic is magic, please?" Lulu replied, out of the corner of my eye I saw Esmé scowl. "More wine, my Olaf?"

Magic. The word floated through my mind and I smiled at the thought. I wished magic did exist. It was such a simple word and idea, but for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It made me think of those strange Mathilda like powers Klaus and I have. Maybe fortune-telling was real like Olaf thought. I mean, it did help him to find us every time. But could magic exist in more ways than just fortune-telling? Maybe Madame Lulu had powers like mine and maybe if I asked her, she would explain it all. Perhaps then I could help the Baudelaires get out of the hinterlands safely too. I hoped they were doing okay out there. Maybe I should make up an excuse to go check on them.

"Thank you," Olaf said. "Now, Lulu, we need your fortune-telling abilities once more."

"The Baudelaire brats slipped away from us again," the bald man said, "and the boss was hoping you'd be able to tell us where they went."

"Also," the hook-handed man said, "we need to know where the Snicket file is."

"And we need to know if one of the Baudelaire parents survived the fire," Esmé said. "The orphans seem to think so, but your crystal ball might tell us for sure. Though I highly doubt it." Esmé turned her chin up haughtily. "Frankly, I don't believe in magic or fortune-telling since they're both very unfashionable, but since you seem to have helped us in the past, I suppose it may work."

"And I'd like some more wine," one of the white-faced women said.

"So many demands you make," Madame Lulu said, in that strange accent. It reminded me of the accent Count Olaf had used when he was pretending to be Gunther, the Auctioneer. I shuddered as I remembered being stuffed into that mermaid statue. "Madame Lulu remembers, please, when you would visit only for the pleasure of my company, my Olaf."

"There isn't time for that tonight," Olaf replied hastily. "Can't you consult your crystal ball right now?"

"You know rules of crystal ball, my Olaf," Lulu replied. "At night the crystal ball must be sleeping in the fortune-telling tent, and at sunrise you may ask one question."

"Then I'll ask my first question tomorrow morning," Olaf said, "and we'll stay until all my questions are answered."

"Oh, my Olaf," Madame Lulu said. "Please, times are very hard for Caligari Carnival. Is not good business idea to have carnival in hinterlands, so there are not many people to see Madame Lulu or crystal ball. Caligari Carnival gift caravan has lousy souvenirs. And Madame Lulu has not enough freaks, please, in the House of Freaks. You visit, my Olaf, with troupe, and stay many days, drink my wine and eat all of my snackings."

As Madame Lulu was speaking, I had been reaching for another piece of chicken. Olaf scowled at me and the bald man took the liberty to bat my hand away. I brought it back to my side, with a sigh.

"This roast chicken is very delicious," the hook-handed man said.

"Madame Lulu has no money, please," Lulu continued. "Is hard, my Olaf, to do fortune-telling for you when Madame Lulu is so poor. The caravan of mine has leaky roof, and Madame Lulu needs money, please, to do repairs."

"I've told you before," Olaf said, "once I force Mr. Poe into giving me Jamie's fortune and get the Baudelaire fortune, the carnival will have plenty of money."

"You said that about Quagmire fortune, my Olaf," Madame Lulu said, "and about Snicket fortune." My eyebrows furrowed. Did she mean Count Olaf tried to steal Lemony Snicket's fortune too? "But never a penny does Madame Lulu see. We must think, please, of something to make Caligari Carnival more popular. Madame Lulu was hoping that troupe of my Olaf could put on a big show like _The Marvelous Marriage_. Many people would come to see."

Suddenly everyone's eyes were on me. Count Olaf's eyes were shining brightly and my eyes widened in horror when I realized what they intended.

I leaned away, only to jolt upright when I remembered who was sitting on the other side of me. My eyes widened in horror when I realized what they intended.

"No way," I said, "Violet told me all about that horrible plan of yours and it's not going to happen again."

"Of course not," Esmé said, the only one who wasn't staring at me creepily, "the girl can sing, though. I'd like to say that's the only and I mean _only_ thing she may have inherited from me."

"Really?" Madame Lulu said, eyeing me curiously, "It could, please, help my business if she does."

"Then, she'll do it," Count Olaf said, "whether she likes it or not."

"Fine," I said, "but I'll need an instrument. Maybe a guitar or piano."

Madame Lulu nodded. "Excellent. But could you sing something before, please, you must sound good to perform?"

Everyone looked at me expectantly. It made me uncomfortable to sing in front of people I despised and so I was a little reluctant. But I remembered what Jacques Snicket had said about not giving up on what I loved most in life.

"Do as Madame Lulu says," Olaf growled, "if she wants you to sing, then sing this _instant_."

I sighed and stood up so I could sing properly. I raked my brain for a song and then, began:

"_There's a fire starting in my heart,_

_Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out of the dark_

_Finally, I can see you crystal clear._

_Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your ship bare._

_See how I leave, with every piece of you_

_Don't underestimate the things that I will do._

_There's a fire starting in my heart,_

_Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out of the dark_

_The scars of your love, remind me of us._

_They keep me thinking that we almost had it all_

_The scars of your love, they leave me breathless_

_I can't help feeling..._

_We could have had it all..._

_Rolling in the Deep _

_You had my heart inside of your hand _

_And you played it to the beat." _

I stopped and held my breath as I waited for their reaction. Madame Lulu's eyebrows were raised, Olaf's associates were looking at me with narrowed eyes, Esmé's face was expressionless, and Count Olaf didn't look very impressed.

"Child is good, my Olaf," Madame Lulu said, "She make excellent attraction, please. Many will come see young talent. She can begin tomorrow evening."

I brightened. "As long as it's for a good cause," I said, crossing my arms.

"Oh, so you're one of _those_," Olaf sneered, "Frankly, I've heard better talent. Myself for instance."

I tried to turn my laugh into a cough.

"Well, of course," Esmé said, "we all know we have more talent than that, but we just don't have the time or energy to perform. I've retired from show business. All I want to be now is Count Olaf's girlfriend."

There was a long silence as Madame Lulu looked as if Esmé had just slapped her in the face. Esmé was trying to hide her smirk and Count Olaf looked at Madame Lulu sheepishly.

"You did not tell me, my Olaf, that Esmé was the girlfriend of you," Madame Lulu said, breaking the long silence. "Perhaps Madame Lulu will not let you and troupe stay at carnival of mine."

"Now, now, Lulu," Count Olaf said, and I shivered, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Count Olaf spoke in that tone of voice when he was trying to fool someone into thinking he was a kind and decent person. His eyes were shining very brightly and he gave Madame Lulu a toothy grin. "Did I ever tell you how I began my career as an actor?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"It's a fascinating story," the hook-handed man said.

"It certainly is," Olaf agreed. "Give me some more wine, and I'll tell you. Now then, as a child, I was always the most handsome fellow at school, and one day a young director came up to me and asked me if I would play Young Rolf in Zombies in the Snow…"

Zombies in the Snow? That was the movie we saw with Uncle Monty. No wonder Count Olaf had liked it so much.

I stopped listening as he droned on and on about himself. After a while, the story ended, but then came more stories. Finally, there was a knock on the door and Madame Lulu called out, "Who's there?"

"We're freaks," someone answered in a low voice. "We're three—I mean, we're two freaks looking for work."

Madame Lulu crossed to the door, opening it with a creak. My eyes widened when I saw who it was. The first person had two heads, their hair was light grey and their faces were covered in scars. It took me a moment to notice they had someone with them. A small, furry ball that looked like some kind of animal. At first, I was only surprised by their appearance and how strange they looked, but as I stared at the two-headed person once more, I realized why their faces were so familiar. My hand clamped over my mouth to hide my gasp. They may have changed their hair, covered their faces with scars, and put on something furry but I still knew it was the Baudelaires. Even though Klaus wasn't wearing his glasses. As I realized this, I felt panic seize me. What were they thinking? Did they really think they could fool Count Olaf and his troupe by disguising theirselves? I guess it may have worked last time, but it was still risky and I worried that any moment Count Olaf would realize who they were. And then we'd all be doomed.

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**Most of you probably recognized the song but it was _Rolling in the Deep_ by Adele.**


	2. The Freaks

**I managed to upload a new chapter despite midterms which are all this week :( **

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: The Freaks<strong>

"Walk in, please," Madame Lulu said and they obeyed, walking inside the caravan and although they were trying to hide it, I knew they were terrified. "Sit down, please, and Lulu will interview you for carnival job," Madame Lulu said, gesturing to the round table Olaf, his troupe, and I were sitting at.

Violet and Klaus sat down in a chair across from me and Sunny sat in the chair beside her siblings. From beside me, Count Olaf was leaning back in his chair, studying the Baudelaires very carefully. I was so nervous I could feel my palms sweating, but I tried to remain expressionless. I knew this was as much of an acting exercise for me as it was for the Baudelaires.

"It seems to me you look very familiar," he said and I prepared to step in front of the Baudelaires in case he recognized them.

"Perhaps you have seen before the freaks, my Olaf," Lulu said. "What are names of the freaks?"

"My name is Beverly," Violet said in a low voice as a part of her disguise. "And this is my other head, Elliot."

Olaf reached across the table to shake hands, and Klaus reached his hand out. "It's very nice to meet you both," he said. "It must be very difficult having two heads."

"Oh, yes," Klaus said, in a strangely high pitched voice that would have made me giggle if our circumstances weren't so dire. "You can't imagine how troublesome it is to find clothing."

"I was just noticing your shirt," Esmé said. "It's very in."

"Just because we're freaks," Violet said, "doesn't mean we don't care about fashion."

"How about eating?" Count Olaf said, his eyes shining brightly. "Do you have trouble eating?"

"Well, I-I mean, well, we—" Klaus said, but before he could continue, Olaf grabbed an ear of corn from a platter and held it toward them.

"Let's see how much trouble you have," he snarled, as his associates began to laugh. "Eat this ear of corn, you two-headed freak."

"Yes," Madame Lulu agreed. "It is best way to see if you can work in carnival. Eat corn! Eat corn!"

Violet and Klaus glanced at each other and then reached out to take the corn from Olaf. Violet leaned forward to try to take a bite, but the corn slipped from Klaus's hand and fell back down onto the table. The room roared with cruel laughter.

"Look at them!" one of the white-faced women laughed. "They can't even eat an ear of corn! How freakish!"

"Try again," Olaf said with a nasty smile. "Pick the corn up from the table, freak."

They picked up the corn again and tried it once more. Klaus went to take a bite, but when Violet tried to move the corn to help him, it hit him in the face and everyone—except for Sunny and I—laughed once more.

"You are funny freaks," Madame Lulu said. She was laughing so hard that tears came out of her eyes and she had to wipe them with her hands. As she did, one of her dramatic eyebrows smeared slightly. "Try again, Beverly-and-Elliot freak!"

"This is the funniest thing I've ever seen," the hook-handed man said. "I always thought people with birth defects were unfortunate, but now I realize they're hilarious."

I wanted to point out that he would probably have an equally difficult time eating corn too. But I didn't want to ruin the Baudelaire's job interview. Violet and Klaus kept trying again and again to eat the corn, but kept dropping it onto the table, making everyone laugh again.

"This is more fun than kidnapping!" the bald man said. "Lulu, this freak will have people coming miles to watch, and all it will cost you is an ear of corn!"

"Is true, please," Madame Lulu agreed, and looked at Violet and Klaus. "The crowd loves sloppy eating," she said, "You are hired for House of Freaks show."

"How about that other one?" Esmé asked, giggling and wiping buttermilk from her upper lip. "What is that freak, some sort of living scarf?"

"Chabo!" Sunny said to her siblings and I froze again. She meant, "I know this is humiliating, but at least our disguises are working!" Luckily Violet was quick to recover.

"This is Chabo the Wolf Baby," she said, "Her mother was a hunter who fell in love with a handsome wolf, and this is their poor child."

"I didn't even know that was possible," said the hook-handed man.

"Grr," Sunny growled.

"It might be funny to watch her eat corn, too," the bald man said. He grabbed another ear of corn and waved it at the youngest Baudelaire. "Here Chabo! Have an ear of corn!"

Sunny opened her mouth wide to take a bite, but when the bald man saw her teeth, he yanked his hand back in fear.

"Yikes!" he said. "That freak is vicious!"

"She's still a bit wild," Klaus said, "In fact, we got all these horrible scars from teasing her."

"Grr," Sunny growled again. She bit a piece of silverware to demonstrate how wild she was.

"Chabo will be an excellent carnival attraction," Madame Lulu pronounced. "People are always liking of violence, please. You are hired, too, Chabo."

"Just keep her away from me," Esmé said. "A wolf baby like that would probably ruin my outfit."

"Grr!" Sunny growled once more.

"Come now, freaky people," Madame Lulu said. "Madame Lulu will show you the caravan, please, where you will do the sleeping."

"We'll stay here and have more wine," Count Olaf said. "Congratulations on the new freaks, Lulu. I knew you'd have good luck with me around."

"Everyone does," Esmé said and kissed Olaf on the cheek, making me cringe, but I wasn't alone because Madame Lulu scowled as she left with the Baudelaires. I wished I could go with them to make sure no one saw through their disguises, but I would just have to be relieved that they made it through the interview in one piece.

"That two-headed freak really was hilarious," one of the white-faced women said.

"The correct term is conjoined twins," I said, crossing my arms, "and it's not nice to laugh at them."

"Quiet, Blondie," Olaf growled, "You're beginning to sound like that bookworm." He looked back at the others. "I don't care what they're called, as long as they're here, Madame Lulu will have better business."

"What is the first question you're going to ask the crystal ball tomorrow morning?" the hook-handed man asked, changing the subject.

"Whether the Baudelaire parents are alive or not," Count Olaf replied, "and then, I'll ask where those Baudelaires brats are, and finally the whereabouts of the Snicket file."

"Why do we need some crazy old fortune teller to answer our questions?" Esmésaid. "Why don't we just do it ourselves? You're brilliant enough to figure it out without _her_ help."

"Now, now, Esmé," Olaf said, using that same tone and expression that he used with Madame Lulu, "Madame Lulu is a gifted fortune-teller who has always helped me. If I were to do it without her help, it would be a waste of time. If we're going to find out where to look next for those Baudelaire brats as soon as possible, we need to have our fortune told from Madame Lulu. And we need to figure out if one of the Baudelaire parents is alive. Don't you want to find out?"

"Of course," Esmé said, "But I don't trust that woman. I don't care if she has some stupid crystal ball and a 'magical' tent. There's no such thing as fortune telling or any _'magic'_."

"_No such thing_?" Olaf said, looking exasperated, "How do you not believe it after your own…" he glanced in my direction as he interrupted himself. I looked down, pretending I was staring at my hands. "You and I both know about it and who's to say Madame Lulu isn't one of…_them_?"

"Well, if she is, then that just makes her even crazier," Esmé argued, "Renée's already freakish enough for me to handle."

My eyebrows furrowed. Who was she talking about? "Who's Renée?" I couldn't help asking.

Esmé and Count Olaf exchanged glances as if they knew something I didn't.

"Oh, just some crazy lady who thinks we're family," Esmé said, "you're lucky I was around when you found out who you really are and not her. I may not like being your aunt but someone has to tell you who the Murray's do and do_ not_ associate with. Renée is one of the people you should not associate yourself with no matter what that senseless woman tells you."

"Has she been trying to contact you?" Olaf asked.

Esmé scowled. "I haven't spoken to her in years," Esmé said, "not since…" she trailed off but apparently Count Olaf understood what she was about to say because his eyes grew very shiny. "But she's been trying to talk to me lately. Of course, I don't have time for worthless fools like her."

"Do you think she knows?" Olaf said, glancing at me again.

"I never told her anything," Esmé said, "and not many people know about the girl being alive. I doubt she knows anything and I'm not going to tell her."

"Why can't she know?" I asked, but Madame Lulu, who was entering the caravan, interrupted me.

"My Olaf, you truly have brought Madame Lulu good fortune," she said and went on about how 'brilliant' he was while I tried to make sense of their conversation. Who is Renée? And why wasn't she supposed to know about me? Just when it seemed like I discovered the truth about my parents, more mysteries arise and I'm back to where I started.

"Orphan, clean up our plates," Count Olaf ordered, jolting me from my thoughts, "Madame Lulu could use someone to do chores for her."

I sighed heavily and cleared the table, though I was a little happy to have an excuse to leave the table. They continued chatting and would laugh every so often as they drank more and more wine while I continued to think.

They left to get the luggage from the car after a bit and I remained washing the dishes. Madame Lulu came over then and took the cloth from my hands. "Let me, please, child," she said, "I'll take care of cleaning, please. You are dismissed, please."

I nodded. "Thank you," I said, and started for the door. As my fingers touched the doorknob, I was reminded of something. I turned. "Madame Lulu," I began. She looked at me, raising her dramatic eyebrows. "D-does your fortune-telling really work? I've always been curious about it."

"Yes, child," Madame Lulu said, "as Olaf said, magic is magic, please, and that is what I do."

"Does magic exist in more ways than that?" I asked.

"I do not understand, please," Madame Lulu said, "perhaps you go now, please, Olaf is a busy and brilliant man who does not wait for you child. I believe in giving people what they want, and so should you, please."

"But I just want to know if fortune-telling is the only magic there is," I pressed, "because ever since I left my boarding school, some very strange and unexplainable things have happened. And I don't think they were coincidences…" I trailed off, waiting for Madame Lulu to respond. At first she was silent and expressionless, then suddenly her eyes turned cold.

"My crystal ball is only thing, please, that possesses any magic, child," she said, angrily, "do not ask of me again these questions, please. Now off with you, or you make Olaf angry."

"I'm sorry," I said, quickly, "I-I just thought—"

"Go," Madame Lulu said, fiercely.

"Orphan," Olaf called right on cue, "get out here and carry in our luggage."

"Just don't tell Olaf about this," I said with a sigh, "and I promise I won't bug you about it again." I left the caravan, glancing back at Madame Lulu who was watching me go; her face was an expressionless mask.

Olaf was at his car and I hurried over only to be bombarded with two heavy suitcases.

I tried lifting one and it didn't even move more than an inch off of the ground.

"This is barely possible for me," I complained, "it's way too disproportionate."

"You'll do as I say and carry the luggage in," Olaf snarled, "and make it quick, I don't want to wait very long."

He strode away to what I assumed was the guest caravan, leaving me with two heavy bags and my own smaller bag, which wasn't nearly as heavy. I had to carry them all at the same time and stop every two feet to rest, but eventually I reached the caravan.

The inside of the caravan had a long hall way with three doors along one wall leading to rooms and one door at the end of the hall. It was smaller than the others and only for us because Madame Lulu considered us to be 'very important people'. Well, except me, of course.

"Hurry up with our luggage," Olaf said, impatiently as I struggled to carry the two bags. Olaf was waiting outside his room that he would be sharing with Esmé. I almost reached him, but the heavy bags weighed me down and caused me to trip. I fell backwards, landing on my butt. Olaf's associates who had been walking behind me, laughed cruelly.

Olaf growled and snatched the bags, pausing to kick me in the side before carrying the two suitcases into his room. The bald man and the white-faced women went inside their rooms, sneering at me as they did.

I stayed on the ground for a moment, before I resolved to get up and perhaps figure out where I was supposed to go. Olaf had already closed his room's door so I knocked on it.

After a moment it swung open. Esmé was peering down at me.

"What?" she asked, impatiently.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" I asked.

Esmé sighed. "Olaf, darling, the orphan brat needs a place to sleep."

"That's right," Olaf said, coming to stand beside Esmé. "I almost forgot."

Then, he was dragging me toward the door at the end of the hall. Olaf opened the door, revealing a relatively small, dark room. The room was bare except for a hammock pushed against one of the walls and a door that looked like it led to an equally tiny bathroom.

"This is it?" I asked, not really liking it.

"Of course it is you spoiled brat," Olaf said and then, shoved me inside. He stayed outside my door, looking down at me with narrowed eyes. "Just be glad Madame Lulu was able to find a spare hammock from the freaks caravan," he said.

"Well, bye," I said, climbing onto the hammock.

"Don't you think it's a little strange that on the same night I come, so do three freaks?" Olaf's eyes were shiny as he raised his one eyebrow.

"Well, if things like crystal balls are magical," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "then I don't think three freaks showing up is at all unlikely."

"Maybe," Olaf muttered, and then changed the subject, "I'm going to lock this door so you won't be able to escape this time. The hinterlands is a big place with nowhere for little girls like you to hide, so if you ever try to escape, I will find you and…well, I don't think I need to explain what it is I will do to you, but I think I've made it perfectly clear, right?"

I nodded.

"But there shouldn't be any reason for you to escape anyways," Count Olaf went on, "the Baudelaires are out of the picture now and you won't have anywhere to go. You'll just rot away out there, but if you stay with me, you could have a better life, no matter how short it will be." He laughed cruelly for a moment.

"I highly doubt that," I muttered, "I think I'd have a better chance surviving in the wilderness."

"Well, perhaps you can sleep outside then," Olaf hissed, "and scavenge for meals out there." He smirked. "Oh, and I noticed you somehow managed to get your hideous hair to grow back, but it'll all be gone again if you try to escape or foil my plans or any of that."

He pushed the door closed and I heard a click as it locked, and the room went instantly dark. I shuddered. It reminded me of when Olaf locked me in my room for several weeks for sneaking into his tower. At least this time there was a small window high above me and a place to sleep.

I went inside the bathroom, which was even smaller than the room I was staying in to see about my fresh scrapes. I found a cloth and wet it to begin gently cleaning the semi-dried blood on my knees. Then, I checked up on the wound on my shoulder that I had received from the hook-handed man while I escaped from the hospital room. The bandage had soaked up the blood, which turned it crimson so I had to remove it. The cut still hadn't had enough time to heal much and the exposure to the air made it sting. I was very careful when I cleaned this wound, especially since it made me feel queasy whenever I looked at it.

Then, I searched the contents of the small bag that was mine and found that special ointment inside that Spirit had given me. I applied it to my wound and slowly, it closed up, turning into a scar. Then, I put it on my scrapes, which healed instantly. I wished Spirit were here with me. I wondered how he was doing and I hoped he was okay, wherever he was. But then again, I also wished the Baudelaires were with me too instead of spending the night in the freak caravan. At least they would be safe for the time being. Soon, though, we would need to come up with a plan to escape from here.

As I climbed into the hammock and took out my notebook from my pocket to start writing, I realized how long it has been since I'd written anything. While I wrote down all of the misery the Baudelaires and I faced at Heimlich Hospital, which brought tears to my eyes as it reminded me of how terrible our situation was. We couldn't hang around here for very long or at least the Baudelaires shouldn't. I knew that Olaf was bound to figure it out at some point and that thought made me especially restless.

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	3. Scheming and Makeovers

**Here's a new chapter! Midterms delayed me a bit but luckily i did well so now i can focus on writing! :)**

**So Enjoy and Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! **

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Scheming and Makeovers<strong>

It was still dark outside when the door to my room was pushed open and Olaf barged in.

"Wake up orphan," he cried, and dragged me out of the hammock before I could even open my eyes. "It's almost sunrise and that means I get to ask the crystal ball a question."

"Am I going to watch?" I asked, rubbing my eyes as they adjusted to the bright light in the hall.

"No, of course not," Olaf growled, "but I want everyone awake. Whatever happens, today is a very busy day."

Finally, my eyes were able to adjust and I could see Olaf's troupe all dressed, waiting at the door. Esmé came out of the room she was sharing with Olaf, dressed in one of her strange outfits that looked like something Lady Gaga might wear. I wondered briefly if she was Esmé's inspiration for her whacky sense of fashion.

"Can't I come too?" Esmé asked Olaf as she approached. "I want to see how that crystal ball works."

"Not this time," Olaf said, "Madame Lulu said it has to be me alone or it won't work. Besides, I thought you said that magical crystal balls don't work. Also, someone needs to watch the orphan and I don't trust the others can handle it alone." Olaf scowled at the hook-handed man and bald man who gave me dirty looks. "But you can wait in Madame Lulu's caravan until it's over. There are snacks in there that she generously left out. Now, I'm going to the tent to meet Madame Lulu and find out if one of the Baudelaire parents are alive."

Olaf gave Esmé a gross kiss and I shuddered, then he left. I looked nervously at Esmé and Olaf's associates.

Esmé scowled. "Well, let's go to that freak fortune-teller's caravan," Esmé said.

We went over to the caravan with the eye on it that belonged to Madame Lulu and I was happy to see that there really were snacks. This time Count Olaf wasn't around to scold me for eating. I gladly took a few pieces of bacon, some toast, and several pieces of fruit. Olaf's associates were pigging out again, with their elbows on the table and chewing with their mouths open.

Esmé picked aimlessly at the bowl of strawberries. "I don't think that crystal ball works at all," she said, tossing her hair back, "she's probably a phony and is trying to steal Count Olaf from me."

"I don't think it works either," I said when no one else said anything. "maybe it helped Olaf find out our whereabouts every time, but not even a magic crystal ball is one hundred percent reliable."

Esmé grumbled something and popped a strawberry into her mouth. I was done eating so I got up and went over to the window. The sun was just beginning to rise and since I watched that sunrise with Klaus, I couldn't wait for it to come again.

"Nothing gold can stay," I whispered a line from Robert Frost's poem to myself. Even though he was only a short distance away, I missed Klaus terribly.

At last, as the sun passed over the horizon, I could see Count Olaf striding over to the caravan with Madame Lulu in tow. He was frowning deeply and I wondered what happened.

"How did it go?" Esmé asked as soon as he entered. She got up and went over to him. "Why are you upset?"

"The fortune-telling was amazing of course," Count Olaf said, looking at Madame Lulu with gleaming eyes, "Madame Lulu is a wonderful fortune-teller, but I found out that one of the Baudelaire parents is alive and hiding in the Mortmain Mountains."

My eyes widened. Could it be true? It would be so wonderful if it were true that it made my heart swell with happiness. If we found perhaps, the Baudelaires mother or father, maybe we would be safe from Count Olaf and learn all the secrets of V.F.D. Maybe the Baudelaires would let me stay with them and not let Mr. Poe or anyone else try to send me somewhere else. All I wanted was to be with the Baudelaires wherever they went.

But my hope faded as soon as it had come when I reminded myself that the crystal ball might not be accurate. Maybe I shouldn't get my hopes up.

Esmé frowned. "What are we going to do?" Esmé asked, "We can't get the Baudelaire fortune if one of their parents is still alive."

"I know," Olaf said, sounding just as frustrated, "but now that I know where their location is, we can go looking for them. But first Madame Lulu and I have to run a very important errand right away."

"What kind of errand?" the bald man asked, "Can we come?"

"You'll find out soon," Olaf said, "but the rest of you have to stay here. Madame Lulu needs Hooky to host the House of Freaks Show this morning and the rest of you have the usual jobs."

"What about me?" Esmé said, "I don't have any work. Can't I come?"

Olaf sighed again like he did this morning. "No," he said, "but I promise you'll find out what it is when we get back. In the meantime, I was thinking you could watch the orphan, or use her as your personal slave for the morning."

"But I hate kids," Esmé whined.

"I don't want to be Esmé's slave," I complained.

"It's only for a few hours," Count Olaf reasoned mostly to Esmé, "you can make her do whatever you want, maybe give you a free massage or something. Also, Madame Lulu needs the girl ready for her performance tonight so the carnival will get more money," Then, he looked at me with gleaming eyes. "And you will do whatever she says because if you don't, you'll be very, very sorry. Unless you'd rather spend the morning with baldy."

I glanced at the bald man who gave me a filthy grin.

"No thanks," I said with a shudder.

"Good," Olaf said, "well, good bye and I'll see you when I return."

"Wait," Esmé said and gave Count Olaf a wet kiss on the lips, making Madame Lulu and I scowl. "I'll miss you."

Olaf nodded and then left with Madame Lulu trailing behind him. The troupe dispersed, heading to their usual jobs while staying at the carnival. Esmé and I were alone now, and I really didn't like it. All Esmé ever did was talk about fashion and although I didn't mind wearing fashionable clothes, her constant talk was a little tiresome.

Esmé and I exchanged glances and scoffed simultaneously, which made us scoff even more at each other.

"I can't believe Olaf would leave me here with you," Esmé sulked, "Ever since he found out I was your aunt, he's treating me like your _babysitter_. This is your entire fault, if only you hadn't been so nosy and found that file. And he knows that babysitting is out."

"Well, I'm sorry for your misery," I muttered, crossing to the table to reach for another piece of fruit.

"And now he's always off with that fortune-telling freak," Esmé continued, "Don't think I'm being too overprotective though. I have a right to be. It's like when we were younger and he…well, never mind that," Esmé faltered. "So I need to come up with a plan to get that fortune-teller out of the picture for good. And maybe you can help me."

"Esmé as tragic as your story sounds, I'm not getting involved," I said, "I don't see why you even want his attention so much."

"Because he's my boyfriend, of course," Esmé said, sounding as if it was obvious. "And he's a brilliant man too and crime is in. So you're going to help me get revenge on Madame Lulu and if you do, maybe I'll tell you about your parents."

My eyes lit up. "Really?" I said, "You'll answer my questions?"

"That depends on the question," Esmé said, "but I'm not talking to you about your father. I never liked him and never took the time to get to know him, but I guess I could answer questions you have about Abigail."

"Alright, fine," I said, crossing my arms. "But I'm not doing anything illegal and neither should you."

"But illegal things are in," Esmé said, "and so is revenge."

"It's also dangerous," I said.

Esmé rolled her eyes. "You sound like your mother," she said, bitterly.

"What exactly did you have in mind?" I asked after a moment.

"Well, I haven't exactly figured it out yet," Esmé said, "Olaf's better at scheming than I am, but every good plan starts with a makeover. I decided out of the kindness of my heart that you need a new and fashionable outfit. I may hate you, but you are my niece and as the city's former sixth most important financial advisor, I can't allow my own relative to walk around in such awful clothing." I would have been offended, but when I looked down at my filthy and worn clothes, I couldn't disagree. I really did need an outfit change, though, not to something whacky like what Esmé wears.

"Well, before you stick anything on me," I said, "I'd like to take a shower." I really needed one because unfortunately, I hadn't had access to one while I was at Heimlich Hospital.

Esmé nodded. "Fine," she said, "you shower and I'll go find you an in looking outfit for your singing performance tonight."

Esmé led the way to the guest caravan and I went to the bathroom to shower. It felt good to have hot water for once and I stayed in for a few moments longer after rinsing out the last bit of conditioner. Finally, I made myself get out and dry off with one of the towels. Unfortunately, I didn't have a blow drier so I would have to let my hair dry naturally.

"Hurry up," Esmé called from the other room, "you're wasting my time."

"I'm hurrying," I muttered and stepped out of the bathroom. Esmé was in my room, holding a shopping bag with the words _In Boutique_ printed on it.

She frowned at me. "Your hair is wet still," Esmé said, "I guess I'm going to have to fix that. In fact, you need more than a fashion makeover." Before I could make any comments, Esmé grabbed my arm and dragged me back inside the bathroom, making me sit on the toilet seat lid. "Maybe it's a sign that your hair needs to be fixed too."

Esmé made me wait and brush my hair out while she got some hair stuff, including a blow drier, rollers, and some bottles of hair products. I gulped. It didn't look good.

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this," I muttered as Esmé blow-dried my hair until there was not one inch of wet hair to be found. Then, she put moose all over my hair and some other heat protection products, much to my displeasure.

"So will you tell me about my mother?" I asked, cringing as Esmé roughly clipped half of my hair back.

Esmé sighed. "What do you want to know?"

I thought for a minute. "I don't know," I said, "mostly simple things like what she looked like, her favorite flower, or if she was as interested in fashion as you are?"

"She looked just like you," Esmé said, "and no she wasn't interested in fashion. As for her favorite flower…I remember they were blue like her eyes, but I can't remember the name or why."

Blue flowers…perhaps like that flower Jacques Snicket gave me before…well I didn't want to linger on that too much but I did remember what he called it.

"Plumbago flowers," I said.

Esmé stopped in the middle of rolling a strip of my hair around a hot roller to narrow her eyes at me.

"That was the name," she said, "but how would you know?"

"Um…lucky guess?" I lied, but Esmé's eyes were still watching me as if she didn't believe a word.

"There," Esmé said after she finished putting in all the rollers so when I looked in the mirror, I looked like I had lumps sticking out of my head. I just hoped the end result wouldn't look as bad, "now you'll just have to wait ten minutes or so for it to work. Meanwhile, I'll start on your makeup."

"I don't need any makeup," I said.

"Of course you do," Esmé said, studying my face. She frowned then, "and I need to do something about those eyebrows first." Esmé reached into a small makeup bag and pulled out some tweezers. "Hold still," she ordered.

I'd never had my eyebrows plucked before so when Esmé pulled out the first hair with the tweezers, I cringed in pain. "Ow," I said, "that really hurt."

Esmé rolled her eyes. "Too bad," she said, "if you're going to help me with my plans, you can't have horribly shaped eyebrows." It was a little ironic that Esmé was obsessed with fixing _my_ eyebrows when Count Olaf was clearly in worse condition than I was.

I sighed and let Esmé pluck my eyebrows, cringing every time.

"So what else can you tell me?" I asked, trying to take my mind off of the constant plucking and the after stings. "Was she really as bad a person as Olaf said she was?"

Esmé grimaced. "You should know by now that many people do bad things," she said, "but that doesn't mean they're not good people. People change."

I had been looking Esmé in the eyes when she spoke and something flashed in them, as if Esmé were remembering something from her past. That made me furrow my eyebrows and Esmé scowled. "Stop moving," she hissed and her eyes were back to being hard and cool.

She continued to work on my eyebrows and soon she was done. For a moment, I thought she had plucked every single hair on them because they were so thin. Fortunately, when I looked in the mirror, they weren't too bad. Though my forehead had turned sanguine from the plucking.

"Now that I think about it," Esmé said, her gaze turning to my bare legs, "you need to wax that hair off your legs too."

"I'm not using wax on anything," I protested, "I'm hardly old enough to start doing that."

"Well, it's never too soon to start," Esmé said, "luckily, I have tons of supplies to do that."

"I don't consider that very fortunate for me," I said, bitterly.

And so despite how much I complained, Esmé spread some hot, sticky stuff on my legs and laid paper strips on them. Quickly, she ripped each strip off like a Band-Aid. It stung more than the eyebrow plucking and I made her stop several times to allow the pain to subside.

This makeover thing was beginning to remind me of the makeover Christina and Kate had given me. But those weren't good memories, which made this 'makeover' session with Esmé even worse. At least Esmé let me look in the mirror a couple times so I could see that I didn't look like a total freak. However, I did remember that Esmé had some crazy outfit planned for me to wear and I was a little scared to find out what it might be.

Eventually, my legs were ridden of any hair and as red as my eyebrows. It felt weird having no hair on them and I shivered.

The time it took Esmé to pluck my eyebrows and wax my legs was enough time for the rollers to curl my hair and Esmé pulled each one out. Now I was left with a bunch of tight curls that were still warm from the hot rollers.

I thought I was done, but then Esmé grabbed a bottle of hairspray. I groaned.

"If you want the curls to last, then I need to put this in," Esmé said, "Curls are in and hairspray is too so that's what you're going to have in your hair. Now close your eyes and mouth." I did as she said, though I was reluctant to, and Esmé sprayed all around my hair. I coughed at the overwhelming smell and got up so I could move out of the bathroom.

"I wasn't finished," Esmé said, exasperatedly, but she sighed, "well, let's move on to your makeup and I'll spray your hair again when I'm done."

Esmé made me sit on the toilet seat lid in the bathroom again while she put something called 'Bare Essentials' on my face and neck. Then, I had to close my eyes so Esmé could put on eyeshadow, which was especially long because Esmé said she was using multiple colors to match the outfit she picked out. That made me even more anxious about the outfit. To pass the time, I brought up more questions about my mother.

"So when I discovered the file," I began, "Olaf was acting really weird, more weird than usual. So I was wondering if you knew what the big deal was. I know my fortune is bigger, but…I don't know…I guess it feels like there's more to it. There always seems to be."

"Technically," Esmé said, "that's not a question."

"Fine," I muttered, "Why does Olaf know so much about my parents? Were they…associates or friends or something?"

"I suppose," Esmé said, though it was a vague answer and I wasn't sure what she was referring to.

She put on the mascara and eyeliner, which were the worst. I was worried she would end up poking me in the eye with the eyeliner pencil. She added lipstick and announced with pride that I was done.

"Now you're going to put the outfit on," Esmé said, excitedly. She hurried out of the bathroom and I followed.

Esmé was reaching into the _In Boutique_ bag and when she pulled out the dress to show me, my mouth dropped and my eyes were saucers.

It had an assortment of different colored stripes going in multiple directions. The colors were all so vibrant and the design so strange that it took me a moment to realize I was looking at a dress. The dress only had one sleeve that looked slightly puffed. However, the colors and the stripes weren't the most shocking part of this truly crazy dress, it was the skirt that caught my attention.

It was as if the person who made this dress had been imagining themselves at a carnival and literally decided to make a mini carousel to put on the skirt. The carousel had little colorful people inside and little flags decorated the part that was supposed to be the tent of the carousel and the waist of the dress. At the bottom of the carousel pink stars decorated it all around. It was probably the craziest dress I had ever seen anyone wear, except for Lady Gaga's bubble dress.

"Am I seriously going to have to wear that?" I asked.

"Of course," Esmé cried, "and you'd better like it because it was hard to find it. You're lucky I could only get it in a kid's size otherwise, I would be wearing it." I didn't think I was lucky at all. "Well, put it on."

I sighed but took the dress from Esmé. She helped me slide it on carefully so as not to break off any of the flags. The carousel part of the dress was a little higher than my knees, and one shoulder was left bare. When it was on, I almost fell back because the carousel part was a little heavy. It was like wearing a cardboard box around my waist. It was very uncomfortable and a little inappropriate for me.

"What do you think?" Esmé said, spinning me around to look in the mirror. My mouth dropped even further as I saw the makeup part for the first time. My eyeshadow had a mixture of purple, blue, and a creamy white. The eyeliner was silver though the mascara was black. My cheeks had a little pink blush that was the least crazy thing about it. My lips however were a really bright purply-pink combination that made the outfit look even crazier. The curls that framed my face were big and made my hair look a little shorter.

I was so shocked by how crazy it was, that I had trouble forming words to express how ridiculous I looked.

"Esmé this is crazy," I said, the only thing I could think of to say, "I look like…I don't even know what I look like. A carnival or something."

"Exactly. It's the perfect outfit for this occasion," Esmé said, frowning, "It's fashionable, not_ crazy_, and that makes it even better."

"Well, thanks," I said, "but I think I'm going to stick with my regular clothes. It was fun while it lasted."

Esmé scowled. "Well, then the deal is off," she said, "I won't tell you anything about your mother anymore and I had a reward in mind to give you if you cooperated with my plan."

"But this has nothing to do with your plan to get revenge on Madame Lulu," I said.

"I told you before we started," Esmé said, sounding frustrated, "'every good plan starts with a makeover.' Now you're not done yet, you still need shoes." Esmé pulled out a pair of platform heels that were very high and the strap wrapped like a vine around where my ankle was supposed to be. I shook my head incredulously as she made me sit on the hammock so she could shove them on my feet.

Esmé pulled me up so I was standing and I nearly fell over, having never worn such high and complicated shoes.

"Esmé these shoes are impossible for me to walk in," I said, "In case you didn't realize, I rarely wear heels and a pair like this is going to literally kill me."

"But those are the only heels that are in right now," Esmé said, "besides stilettos, of course."

I rolled my eyes. "Ugh," I groaned, "I thought you weren't supposed to kill me yet."

Esmé glowered at me. "It doesn't matter if you like it," She said, "you'll get used to them. Let's go outside and show off your new look."

Esmé grabbed me by the hand and I tried to follow without face planting as we walked around the carnival. Visitors were staring at me and one of them almost swallowed their lollipop. Some were taking pictures too, making me feel even more uncomfortable.

"See," Esmé said, "everyone is taking notice of how in you look all because of me."

"Well, maybe you should become a fashion designer or something," I said, "and hire professional models to wear stuff like this, instead of me."

Esmé frowned again. "I almost was a fashion designer, but then Renée stole it from me," She growled, "Which is another reason why you shouldn't like her."

"I don't even know her," I said.

"Good," Esmé replied, "you got lucky that I found you first. You're in good hands."

"How am I in good hands?" I cried looking at Esmé in exasperation, "You're trying to steal my fortune!"

"Shh!" Esmé said, putting a finger to her lips and looking around to make sure no one heard. "Don't say that out loud. Besides, I have a right to have some of your fortune. Abigail…ugh, never mined that."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, but Esmé ignored me, grabbing my arm again.

After parading around the carnival for a bit longer while I continually complained about how I looked and Esmé continually insisted I looked fashionable, she decided we should pay a visit to the gift caravan to see if there were any in items for sale.

"The next step of a good plan is to go shopping," she explained, pulling me inside.

I grumbled to myself. No wonder Count Olaf never let Esmé think up any schemes to get the Baudelaires. She would take so long giving people makeovers and shopping that by the time she had formulated an actual plan to get them, Violet would already be of age and have the fortune.

Esmé left me to go look around and I wandered down the aisles, mindlessly looking at all the strange souvenirs. There were fake arms and body parts so people could dress up as a freak for Halloween or for costume parties, there were stuffed animals, and shot glasses with Calgari Carnival written on them in block letters. There were also t-shirts with various things written on them too and tons of figurines. I found myself looking at the figurines when something caught my eye.

It was a figurine of a brown owl with flecks of yellow. It reminded me of Spirit and I smiled. But it was also quite strange looking because one of its eyes was brown, while the other was bright yellow. I picked it up and found it to be surprisingly heavy even though it wasn't that big at all. I turned it over in my hands and gasped at what I saw. In black at the bottom of the figurine was a familiar image that had been watching the Baudelaires and I for what felt like forever. It was a tiny drawing of an eye.

"What are you looking at?" Esmé said and I nearly dropped the figurine on the hard floor. Before I could stop her, Esmé snatched the figurine from my hands and looked at the owl. She glanced up at me and narrowed her eyes. "You're thinking about that bird you had as your pet, aren't you? But don't get your hopes up. I don't think you'll ever see that owl again, especially since they're out of style. Though, if that bird does come back, you let me know."

"Why would I do that?" I said, "You would just hurt him."

"Because those owls are filthy creatures," she said, "and they'll probably give you bird flu or some other disease. If you get a deadly disease then you could die and then we wouldn't get your fortune."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I'm going to wait outside," I said, wanting to be alone, "I'm tired of shopping."

"We didn't even buy anything," Esmé said.

"Then get this," I said, reaching randomly for a figurine that wasn't the owl. My hands had grabbed a figurine of a turtle and Esmé looked distastefully at it.

"A turtle?" Esmé said, "How unfashionable! Turtles are almost as bad as owls. There's no way I'm buying that."

Esmé snatched the turtle from my hands and put it back along with the owl.

"Let's go," Esmé said, "this shopping trip is going to be cut short from the lack of fashionable items in this store." Esmé turned to glare at a woman behind the counter who appeared to work here.

Then, she was shoving me toward the exit and we went back to the guest caravan. At last, Esmé let me rest and I stayed outside the caravan. Except that I couldn't sit down on the steps leading from the caravan to the ground for two reasons. First of all, it was impossible to sit down without breaking the carousel part of the dress. And second, the dress would get dirty. So I gave up and went inside where Esmé was staying with Olaf unfortunately. I had tried to sneak past to my room, but the heels gave me away and Esmé assumed I was done resting and ready to plot for revenge on Madame Lulu.

I tried to sit as comfortably as I could on the only armchair in their room that hadn't yet been defiled like the rest of the place by Olaf's horrid hygiene. I shuddered as I remembered how filthy his tower had been and his bedroom when he was pretending to be Stephano. Esmé was sitting on the bed, clearly on the side she slept because it wasn't that dirty. At least I could be glad that Esmé cared about hygiene, well at least her own. She had been looking through a magazine.

"Aren't we supposed to be brainstorming for our plan?" I asked.

"We are," Esmé insisted, "looking at fashionable clothes in the most stylish magazines helps me think."

I heaved a sigh for about the umpteenth time today and my mind drifted to other thoughts while Esmé 'brainstormed'. For a moment, I wondered where the Baudelaires were and how they were doing. All of this dressing up and shopping made me forget that they were disguised as freaks for a moment. Maybe I could convince Esmé to let me go see them, instead of helping her with the plan.

"Can I go visit the freaks caravan?" I asked, "I want to meet the other freaks. They're probably just as funny as Beverly and Elliot or as violent as Chabo."

Esmé scoffed. "No way," Esmé said, "We have some things to take care of before we formulate our plan to get revenge on Madame Lulu. And I don't want you anywhere near that wolf baby. It might have rabies or something and Olaf wouldn't be happy if you somehow got a disease."

"So basically, you want me to stay away from animals period," I muttered, disappointed.

"Only the really filthy ones, obviously."

"I think I'm more likely to get a disease from living in Olaf's house than from Chabo," I rolled my eyes. "So let me go."

"I'm not supposed to leave you by yourself," Esmé reminded me, "after the last few times, you haven't proved to be very trustworthy."

"Fine," I groaned, "then can you answer another question?"

Esmé scowled. "Then, ask away," she said, bitterly.

"Who's Renée?" I asked. Esmé opened her mouth and I knew she would say something along the lines of her response earlier. "That's not what I mean. Who is she really? Besides a freak or a crazy woman. Who is Renée and why can't she know about me?"

"I already told you," Esmé said, stubbornly, "Besides, it doesn't matter. All you need to know is to stay away from her. And never speak of her in front of me or Olaf ever again."

I frowned looking down at my hands.

"Now, I thought about what I want from you next," Esmé said, "Olaf said I was allowed to make you do whatever I wanted while he was gone and so you're going to give me a manicure! How exciting is that?"

Esmé knew I was going to complain so she said that if I didn't give her a proper manicure, she would get me into big trouble. I also wasn't allowed to ask any questions that weren't relevant to Esmé's manicure. I tried to warn Esmé how terrible I was at painting or filing nails, or anything close, but every time she would say it was just an excuse so I wouldn't have to give her a manicure.

"Look," Esmé said, suddenly. I stopped painting Esmé's long pinkie nail a deep crimson to glance up at her. I was surprised to see she wasn't glowering at me for once. "You're not the only one who lost someone important that night your parents died. Abigail was my sister and some things you just can't ignore." I stared into Esmé's eyes as she spoke and noticed they were a dark green like the color of the grass. It was such a nice color and after what Esmé said, my mind began to wonder if maybe she wasn't such a bad person. She noticed me staring at her with new eyes and her eyes were slits. "But don't take that the wrong way. It won't stop me from getting your fortune. Now keep painting my nails and then you'll have to blow them dry."

I sighed heavily and realized that maybe some people just can't change. I was in the middle of the second coat of nail polish when we heard a tremendous, creaky sound that was all too familiar to me. I'd heard it every time I traveled from place to place with Olaf and his troupe. A deafening roar accompanied the irritating sound of Olaf's long, black car. I put my hands to my ears to suppress the cacophony of noises.

"That must be Olaf," Esmé said, her eyes lighting up, "He's finally back from his errand and we can put our plan of revenge into action."

"Which is…" I said.

"Well, I've been thinking that you could push Madame Lulu off the stage during your performance," Esmé said with a laugh, "it might not do too much damage, but at least it'll injure her enough that she won't be able to use her crystal ball anymore."

"I may have agreed to help you, but I'm not pushing anyone off of any stage," I said, "if you want to, go right on ahead, but if I do it, it'll make me feel terribly guilty and Olaf might kill me."

Esmé laughed again. "He can't kill you," she said, "he knows we need to keep you alive to get your fortune. Besides, Olaf especially won't kill you when I tell him about the second part of my plan."

"What's your second plan?" I asked, a little afraid to know the answer.

"Well," Esmé said, "I was thinking after I finished your makeover that maybe you aren't that bad looking. Now that you're not in those rags and you're looking fashionable, it seems you did inherit the Murray's good looks, thanks to me, of course. So I had the great idea that you should be entered into beauty pageants." Esmé's eyes gleamed as if she really liked the thought of dressing me up in sparkly outfits and making me stand in front of a crowd to be stared at and judged based mainly on looks. "You already have a talent and I could dress you in the most fashionable outfits. And I'll make sure you win every time. You'll get the ribbons and the trophies, as long as they're not gold trophies, and Olaf and I will share the money. That way we'll get more and more money…for the greater good, of course. What do you think?"

"I don't want to enter into beauty pageants," I said, "especially not so you and Olaf can make money off of it."

"We'll see about that," Esmé said, "now go check to see what's going on out there."

I got off the chair and peered out the only window in the room. I saw that Count Olaf had returned and had stopped his car right in front of the tent for the House of Freaks. That ended the roar of the car's engine, but the other roar persisted. Olaf got out of the car, followed by Madame Lulu, and pointed with a flourish to a trailer attached to the back of the car. Inside the metal bars of a cage on wheels, were lions. Real lions that were packed so tightly that I couldn't tell how many there were. They were angrily scratching at the cage, snapping at one another, and roaring loudly. Some of Olaf's henchmen gathered around, along with some visitors of the carnival to see what was happening. Olaf tried to say something over the roar of the lions, but he couldn't be heard. He frowned and removed a whip from his pocket, whipping at the lions until they quieted down.

"Are those lions?" Esmé asked, in disbelief from beside me.

I didn't have time to answer her, because Count Olaf was speaking, though his next words answered both of our questions.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "boys and girls, freaks and normal people, Caligari Carnival is proud to announce the arrival of these fierce lions, who will be used in a new attraction."

"That's good news," someone in the crowd said, "because the souvenirs in the gift caravan are pretty lousy."

"It is good news," Count Olaf agreed with a growl and turned to face us. His eyes were shining brightly and I shivered. I could see the freaks had gathered outside of the caravan and the Baudelaires were amongst them, still in their disguises and looking just as anxious.

"Things are about to get much better around here," he said.

'No,' I thought, 'things were probably about to get much worse.'

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><p><strong>So no Baudelaires in this one unfortunately...but i hope you liked seeing a little more of Esmé!<strong>

**Review and tell me what you think!**

**Oh and i posted links on my profile for the outfit/makeup that Esmé forces Jane/Jamie to wear. Ever since i saw that carnival outfit that Katy Perry wore, i had to use it as one of Esmé's stylish outfits. Unfortunately Jane is the one who has to wear it though. :)**


	4. The Archival Library

**Here's a new chapter! Sorry it took so long, my teachers have been giving me tons of projects and stuff...anyways EnJOY!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: The Archival Library<strong>

"Well, let's not wait around in here," I said, "let's go see what Olaf's latest scheme will be."

"But we can't go yet," Esmé said, "my nails aren't dry yet. Keep blowing on them."

I groaned, but blew on Esmé's crimson nails until they were completely dry.

"Alright," I said, "they're perfectly dry, now let's go."

"Come on," Esmé said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me along. Esmé pushed open the door leading outside and we could hear their conversation more clearly now.

"You were right, boss," the hook-handed man was saying. The crowd that had formed was gone now apart from the freaks who still gawked at the lions, among them were Violet, Klaus, and Sunny, looking at each other in dismay. "Things are about to get much better here."

"Of course he was right, please," Madame Lulu said, "He is brilliant man, and brave man, and generous man. He is brilliant for thinking of the lion show, please. He is brave man for hitting lions with whip, please. And he is generous man for giving lions to Lulu."

"He gave those lions to you?" Esmé asked, gripping my wrist tighter. Her pace quickened as she approached and I had to attempt to jog in these heels to keep up. "They were presents?"

"How can you say he's brave?" I added, "Locking animals in a cage and beating them isn't brave. It's just cruel."

"Silence, orphan," Olaf growled his gaze moved to me and then, his eyes widened. Shining brightly as if he had just told a joke. I realized it must be the ridiculous outfit and could feel my cheeks burning up. "What is that you're wearing?"

Esmé placed her hands on my shoulders. "I decided since the orphan is related to me that she should at least dress fashionably. This outfit is so in right now."

"Really?" Olaf said, looking at me and I could see the mockery in his gleaming eyes. In fact, his associates looked like they were trying to hold back their laughter.

"This is what happens when you leave me alone with her," I said, narrowing my eyes at Olaf.

"And I'm sure you're thankful for this wonderful opportunity to look stylish," Esmé said, "all because of me."

"Is this what you've been doing this whole time?" Madame Lulu asked.

"No," Esmé said, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes at Madame Lulu, "Actually, the orphan's makeover gave me a great idea that could help us get even more money."

"What's your great idea?" Olaf asked, glancing at me as if I were the fortune he sought.

"Beauty pageants!" Esmé announced, "I can dress the orphan up in all kinds of in outfits and enter her in beauty pageants. She'll get the ribbons and any trophy that isn't valuable, while we'll split the prize money. Isn't that a grand idea?"

"As much fun as it would be to force the orphan against her to stand on a stage in front of a group of judges, wearing all kinds of in outfits, for our own benefit," Olaf said, giving me a wicked grin, "We don't have time for beauty pageants. Maybe once I prevail like Madame Lulu predicted we'll do your plan, but for now there isn't any time."

"But there is time to give Madame Lulu lions?" Esmé said, bitterly, "What did you get for me?"

Now it was Olaf's turn to look embarrassed. He scratched his head with one of his bony hands. "Nothing," he admitted. "But you can share my whip, if you'd like."

Madame Lulu leaned over and gave Olaf a kiss on the cheek. What was wrong with all these women that Olaf meets? I had no idea bad hygiene was attractive. "He gave lions to me, please, because I did such wonderful fortune-telling."

"You should have seen it, Esmé," Olaf said, "Lulu and I entered the fortune-telling tent and turned out all the lights, and the crystal ball began to hum its magical hum. Then, magical lightning crackled above us, and Madame Lulu told me to concentrate as hard as I could. While I closed my eyes, she gazed into her crystal ball and told me that one of the Baudelaire parents is alive and hiding in the Mortmain Mountains. As a reward, I gave her these lions."

"So Madame Lulu needs a carrot, too, eh?" the hook-handed man chuckled.

"First thing tomorrow morning," Olaf continued, "Madame Lulu will consult her crystal ball again, and tell me where the Baudelaires are."

Esmé shot daggers at Madame Lulu. "And what sort of gift will you give then, Olaf?"

"Be reasonable, my dear," Count Olaf said to Esmé, "The lions will make Caligari Carnival much more popular, so Madame Lulu can devote her time to fortune-telling and give us the information we need to finally steal the Baudelaire fortune. Then, we can follow your plan to get more money."

"I hate to criticize," a man with a hunchback said. He was standing near the Baudelaires along with a few other people. I figured he must be one of the freaks and so were the other two, though they didn't look that freakish, "but is there any way we can make the carnival more popular without feeding us to the lions? I must confess that I'm a little nervous about that part."

I frowned. He was going to feed the freaks to the lions? That's terrible! I glanced over to where the Baudelaires were standing, still in their disguises. They gazed back at me, looking just as worried as I was.

"You heard the crowd when I told them about the new attraction," Count Olaf said. "They couldn't wait to see the lions devour you, and all of us need to do our part to give people what they want. Your part is to return to the freaks' caravan until tomorrow. The orphan will do her part and sing and make it a double event so the tickets will cost twice as much to see it. And the rest of us will do our part and start digging the pit."

"Pit?" one of the white-faced women asked. "What do we need a pit for?"

"To keep the lions in," Olaf replied, "so they only eat whichever freak jumps down there. Let's dig it over by the roller coaster."

"Good idea, boss," the bald man said.

"There are shovels in the tool caravan," Lulu said. "I will show you, please."

"I'm not going to dig a pit," Esmé announced. "I might break a nail. Besides, I need to talk to Count Olaf—alone."

"Oh, all right," Count Olaf said. "Let's go in the guest caravan where we won't be disturbed." Then, his gaze moved to me. "And you go help dig the pit for the lion show."

"The orphan can't dig the pit," Esmé said, "she'll ruin her outfit. Madame Lulu can watch her now."

"I don't have time for orphan girl," Madame Lulu said, "I have to help with lions, but the freaks will watch her." She turned to address Hugo. "Make sure the orphan doesn't get into any trouble."

"Just keep that Wolf Baby away from the orphan," Esmé said, "it might give her some kind of deadly disease or bite her."

"I think I'll be okay," I muttered.

They left then, Olaf and Esmé heading toward the guest caravan, while Madame Lulu led the henchmen away to the direction of the roller coaster. I was left alone at last with the Baudelaires and the other freaks.

I hurried over to almost forgetting about the other freaks.

"Hello," one of the freaks said. She was a tall, skinny woman with no clear sign that she possessed any freakish qualities. She was a lot less freakish than I looked right now. "What's your name?"

I hesitated, my forehead scrunching up as I tried to figure out what to say without blurting out the whole truth. "Um, I'm J-jamie," I decided to say at the last minute. It felt weird to say because I was so used to being called Jane, but maybe if I used my real name, it would eventually stick.

"That's a nice name," the man with a hunchback said giving me a kind smile, "I'm Hugo, this is Colette, and Kevin." He gestured to the woman and then to a man who also looked quite normal. Then, he gestured to the Baudelaires, starting with Violet and Klaus. "These are new freaks, Beverly, Elliot, and Chabo."

I nodded, returning his smile. "We've already met."

"Well, we'd better go inside," Colette said, changing the topic, "Maybe we can think of a way not to get eaten."

"Oh, let's not think of those fearsome creatures," Hugo said with a shudder. "Let's play another game of dominoes instead. Jamie can play too and she'll probably like some hot chocolate too. Chabo made it extra special by adding cinnamon."

"Really?" I said, giving Sunny a praiseful smile. It was nice to know Sunny was beginning to develop her own interests besides biting things with her four sharp teeth. "It probably tastes good."

"Chabo, my other head, and I will be along in a moment," Violet said, "We want to finish our hot chocolate. We can watch Jamie for now."

"You might as well enjoy it," the man called Kevin said, gloomily as he followed Hugo and Colette into the freaks' caravan. "It might turn out to be the last hot chocolate you ever drink."

Kevin shut the door using both hands and we moved farther away from the caravan so we wouldn't be overheard.

"Adding cinnamon to hot chocolate is a terrific idea, Sunny," Violet said, "but I'm having trouble enjoying it."

"Ificat," Sunny said, which meant, "Me too."

"Count Olaf's latest scheme leaves a bad taste in my mouth," Klaus said, "and I don't think cinnamon will help."

"I had no idea that's what he was planning," I said, in disbelief, "it's a terrible thing to do and well, it makes me a little nerve wracked to think that the freak chosen could be one of you and then what will we do?"

"We have to get to the fortune-telling tent," Violet said, "and this may be our only chance."

"Why would you want to go in there?" I asked.

"We need to figure out how Madame Lulu's crystal ball really works," Violet said, "Madame Lulu has been able to tell Olaf where we were everytime, but I do know from my studies of electricity that lightning can't appear inside a tent. Something mysterious is going on, and we need to find out what it is."

"Chow!" Sunny said, which meant, "Before we're thrown to the lions!"

"But Olaf did say something about how 'magic is magic'," I said glancing at Klaus. "What if Madame Lulu's crystal ball really is magic, or Madame Lulu is…" I trailed off and felt my cheeks turning pink as I realized how ridiculous it sounded. Magic wasn't real, right? Madame Lulu had thought I was crazy when I asked her about it. But she did give the impression that the crystal ball did possess a magical quality. Though she could be lying like Violet had said.

"That seems like a bit of a stretch," Violet said, "I mean, magic is only in fairytales and fictional novels."

"Well, we thought hypnosis was only in horror movies," Klaus said and I gave him a grateful smile. I was relieved that he was backing me up on this. "But Dr. Georgina Orwell hypnotized me when we were staying at that Lumbermill. So maybe the crystal ball is telling the truth. Maybe Madame Lulu really did see something."

I shuddered, remembering the evil optometrist and Shirley's horrible scheme that involved hypnotizing Klaus.

"Maybe you're right," Violet said, "but we'll have to wait until we get there to be certain."

"But do you think it's real?" Klaus asked.

"I don't know," Violet said exasperatedly and in her regular voice. "I don't know if Madame Lulu is a fortune-teller. I don't know if the crystal ball is magic or not. I don't know how Count Olaf knows where we are. I don't know where the Snicket file is, or why someone else had Olaf's tattoo, or what V.F.D. stands for, or why there's a secret passageway that leads to our house, or—"

"If our parents are alive?" Klaus interrupted. "Do you know if one of our parents is really alive?"

Klaus's voice was shaking and I could see that his eyes were glazing with tears. I frowned and stepped forward to wrap my arms around Klaus and Violet too since they were pretty much stuck together. Violet was leaning her head on Klaus' while Sunny put her mug down to hug Klaus' knees.

We stood there quietly for a few moments. I felt my own tears filling my eyes, feeling awful that the Baudelaires were in this horrible situation. It made me angry that I hadn't done anything to help them; instead I was getting makeovers from Esmé and being bossed around by Olaf and his troupe. But I felt guilty, too, because the Baudelaires might not be here if it weren't for me. I should have helped them get out of the hinterlands before they disguised theirselves as freaks.

"I'm sorry, Klaus," I mumbled, "I wish I knew the answer. I would certainly do everything in my power to help you find them."

"I'm sorry, too," Violet said, "I was a little bit irritable. There's just so much we don't know that it's hard to think about all at once."

"Chithvee," Sunny said, which meant, "But I can't help thinking about our parents."

"Me neither," Violet admitted. "I keep wondering if one of them survived the fire."

"But if they did," Klaus said, "why would they be hiding in a faraway place? Why aren't they trying to find us?"

"Maybe they are," Violet said quietly. "Maybe they're searching for us everywhere they can think of, but they can't find us, because we've been hiding and disguising ourselves for so long."

"But why doesn't our mother or father contact Mr. Poe?" Klaus said.

"We've tried to contact him," Violet pointed out, "but he doesn't answer our telegrams, and we can't seem to reach him by phone. If one of our parents has survived the fire, maybe they're having the same wretched luck."

"You shouldn't get your hopes up," I mumbled, not wanting to ruin the moment, but it was better that someone warned them, "I remember when I was younger, I used to sit at the entrance of the school or look out my window, keeping my eyes on the long drive below. I always hoped that maybe they would come for me, that they were only gone for a short time. But they never came." I felt tears spring from my eyes and I blinked hard. "I don't mean to crush your hopes, but sometimes I wish someone had been there to tell me to stop waiting around."

Klaus put an arm around me as his way of giving me a hug. And Violet laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. Sunny bit my hand gently. It was my turn to bare the burden of our misery.

"I suppose you're right," Violet said, nodding stiffly, "we shouldn't get our hopes up."

"Galfuskin," Sunny reminded us, "This is all guess work—let's go to the fortune telling tent and see if we can find out anything for sure, and we'd better do it soon before the others get back."

"You're right, Sunny," Violet said and the Baudelaires put down their mugs of hot chocolate. We walked through the carnival, Violet and Klaus leaning against each other with each step, and Sunny crawling.

We approached the tent and paused outside to stare at the eye that decorated the flap. I stared at the eye and like one of those optical illusion puzzles, it morphed into something different the longer I looked. I was no longer staring at an eye, but three very distinct letters that stood for the secret organization: V.F.D.

It was strange that after seeing so many of these eyes, and staring at them for so long, I didn't see it until now.

"Look," I said, pointing at the eye with wide eyes, "Did you…"

Klaus glanced at me. "Do you think…" his voice trailed off as he squinted at the tent.

"I didn't see it at first glance," Violet said, "but as long as I look…"

"Volu…" Sunny said.

We didn't say anymore and peered into the entrance of the tent, seeing no sign of anyone inside. We inched hesitantly inside the fortune-telling tent, our minds still pondering over the insignia that stood for the organization that has been hanging over our heads for quite some time now: V.F.D.

* * *

><p>The tent was bigger than I expected and I looked from the enormous black tablecloth decorated with shiny silver stars, which hung over a table in the center of the tent to each corner of the tent, which was all, covered in heavy curtains. Where could we find evidence? Would it be in the cupboard near the entrance? Or in the large trunk that stood in one of the corners? Or maybe the crystal ball did hold a ton of secrets that we were dying to know. There were so many places to look that none of us knew where to begin.<p>

"Where do you think we should look?" Violet asked.

"I don't know," Klaus replied, squinting all around. "I'm not even sure what to look for."

"Well, maybe we should look for answers the way Count Olaf did," Violet said, "He told the whole story of his fortune-telling experience."

"Unfortunately, I remember that," I muttered, "the one time I didn't tune out. I remember he said he entered Madame Lulu's tent and then they turned out all the lights."

We gazed up at the ceiling and noticed it was also decorated with small lights in the shape of stars.

"Switch!" Sunny said, pointing to a pair of switches attached to one of the tent poles.

"Good work, Sunny," Violet said. "Here, Klaus, walk with me so I can get a look at those switches."

They walked over to the pole, but when they reached the switches, Violet frowned and shook her head.

"What's wrong?" Klaus asked.

"I wish I had a ribbon," Violet said, "to tie up my hair. It's hard to think seriously with my powdery hair getting in my eyes. But my hair ribbon is somewhere at Heimlich. . . ."

Violet's voice trailed off, and I saw that she had reached into the pocket of Count Olaf's pants and was withdrawing a ribbon that looked just like hers.

"Yerz," Sunny said.

"It _is_ mine," Violet said, looking at it closely. "Count Olaf must have kept it when I was being prepared for surgery, and left it in his pocket." Her other hand moved back in her pocket and her eyes widened. "There's something else in here too." Violet pulled out a small plastic bag with a lock of blonde hair inside tied together with a white string.

"Ugh," I said, reaching for the bag and looking at the hair inside. "That's my hair. He probably kept some of it when his assistants chopped it off. Well, he's not going to have it anymore." I put it away, though I would probably end up tossing it later. A lock of my own hair was no use to me.

"Well, I'm glad you both got your things back," Klaus said, shuddering a bit, "I don't like to think about Olaf getting his filthy hands on our possessions. Do you need some help tying your hair up? It might be difficult using only one hand, and I don't think you should take your other one out from under the shirt. We don't want to mess up our disguise."

"I could try to put it on for you," I suggested.

"I think I can manage it with one hand," Violet said, "Ah, there we go. I feel less like a freak and more like Violet Baudelaire with my hair up like this. Now, let's see. Both these switches are attached to wires that run up to the top of the tent. One of them obviously controls the lights, but what does the other one do?"

We looked up again and noticed that there was another thing attached to the ceiling of the tent. In between the stars was a small, round mirror, hanging from a piece of metal, which held it at an odd angle. A long strip of rubber was attached to the metal, which in turn was attached to some more mirrors arranged in a sort of wheel.

"What?" Sunny asked.

"I don't know," Klaus said. "It sure doesn't look like anything I've read about."

"It's an invention of some sort," Violet said, examining it carefully. She gestured to different parts of the strange device, but it was as if she were talking to herself instead of us. "That piece of rubber looks like a fan belt, which transmits torque from an automotive engine in order to help cool the radiator. But why would you want to—oh, I see. It moves those other mirrors around, which—but how would—wait a minute. Klaus, see that small hole in the upper corner of the tent?"

"Not without my glasses," Klaus said.

"Do you mean that small rip up there?" I asked, "What could that do?"

"Klaus, what direction are we facing, if we face that small hole?" Violet asked.

"Let me think for a moment," Klaus said. "Last night, the sun was setting as we got out of the car."

"Yirat," Sunny said, which meant, "I remember—the famous hinterlands sunset."

"And the car is over there," Klaus said, spinning around with Violet. "So that way is west…"

"And the rip in the tent faces east," I cried, eagerly as I knew the answer. Klaus glanced at me and I blushed. "I was watching the sunrise this morning and it came from somewhere behind the tent where the rip faces."

Klaus and I shared secret grins.

"East," Violet said and now she was smiling too, "the direction of the sunrise as Jane recalled."

"That's right," Klaus said, "but what does that have to do with anything?"

Violet was silent as we shared smiles. I knew that smile because I'd seen it many times before like when Violet and I found the evidence to prove Uncle Monty's murder. It was the same smile she had worn when she had discovered a way out of the jail cell at the Village of Fowl Devotees. And at this moment she was smiling the same way as she looked up at the strange device on the ceiling, and then, back down at the two switches on the wall.

"Watch this," she said, and flicked the first switch. Immediately, the gears began to spin, and the long strip of rubber began to move, and the wheel of mirrors became a whirring circle.

"But what does it do?" Klaus said.

"Listen," Violet said, and we could hear a low, buzzing hum coming from the machine. "That's the hum Count Olaf was talking about. He thought it was coming from this crystal ball, but it was coming from this invention."

"I thought a magical hum sounded fishy," Klaus said.

"Me too," I agreed.

"Legror?" Sunny asked, which meant, "But what about the lightning?"

"You see how that larger mirror is angled?" Violet said, "It's pointed so that it reflects any light that comes out of the small hole in the tent."

"But there isn't any light coming from it," I said.

"Not now," Violet said, "because the hole is facing east, and it's late in the afternoon. But in the morning, when Madame Lulu does her fortune-telling, the sun is rising, and the light of the sunrise would shine right on that mirror. And that mirror would reflect it onto the other mirrors, put into motion by the torquated belt—"

"Wait," Klaus said, "I don't understand."

"That's okay," Violet said. "Count Olaf doesn't understand it either. When he walks into the tent in the morning, Madame Lulu turns this invention on and the room is filled with flickering lights. Remember when I used the refraction of light to make a signaling device at Lake Lachrymose? It's the same thing, but Lulu tells him it's magical lightning."

"But wouldn't Olaf look up and see that it wasn't magical lightning?" I asked.

"Not if the lights were off," Violet said, flicking the other switch, and above them the stars went out. The cloth tent was so thick that no light from outside shone in. We were in utter darkness and it reminded me of being trapped in that cage at the bottom of the elevator shaft of 667 Dark Avenue, without the sound of the machine's low hum.

I shuddered. "It's terrifying," I said, "especially with the hum."

"Eerie," Sunny said in agreement.

"It is spooky," Klaus agreed. "No wonder Olaf thought it was a magical hum."

"Imagine how it would feel if the room were flickering with lightning," Violet said, "That's the sort of trickery that makes people believe in fortune-telling."

"So Madame Lulu is a fake," Klaus concluded.

Violet flicked both switches and the invention turned off. "She's a fake, all right," Violet said, "I bet the crystal ball is just plain glass. She tricks Count Olaf into thinking she's a fortune-teller, so he'll buy her things like lions and new turbans."

"Chesro?" Sunny asked, and glanced up at us. By this she meant, "But if she's a fake, how did she know that one of our parents was alive?"

I bit my lip, not sure of how to answer her.

"She didn't, Sunny," Violet said softly, "Madame Lulu's information is as fake as her magic lightning."

Sunny made a small, soft noise that I could scarcely hear and hugged her siblings' legs. Her tiny body shook with sadness. I stared helplessly at them, wishing there was a way to bring back their parents. But then, something occurred to me.

"Wait a minute," I said to help them collect theirselves, "Madame Lulu might be a fake but she still somehow was able to find us everywhere we went. There must be some explanation and maybe it'll explain about Madame Lulu saying your parents are alive. Or at least one of them. I hope it's true. I hate seeing you all so upset."

"That's true," Violet said, "I forgot about that."

"After all," Klaus said, reaching with difficulty into his pocket. "We first thought that one of our parents might be alive after we read this." He unfolded a piece of paper that I recognized as the thirteenth page of the Snicket file. There was a photograph stapled to the page showing the Baudelaires' parents standing with Jacques and Lemony Snicket. It made me sad seeing Jacques and I felt myself beginning to quiver with my own grief. I pulled myself to together before the Baudelaires could notice. I didn't want them to ask about it. I never wanted to repeat what happened to anyone ever. It was still so horrible, but it remained imprinted in my mind. You would think that after a month or so, the images may fade a bit, but they were as vivid as if it had happened this morning. Klaus squinted as he read the passage below the photograph again. "'Because of the evidence discussed on page nine, experts now suspect that there may in fact be one survivor of the fire, but the survivor's whereabouts are unknown,'" he recited. "Maybe Madame Lulu knows about this."

"But how?" I asked.

"Well, let's see," Klaus said, "Count Olaf said that after the appearance of magical lightning, Madame Lulu told him to close his eyes so she could concentrate."

"There!" Sunny said, pointing at the table with the crystal ball.

"No, Sunny," Violet said, "the crystal ball couldn't tell her. It's not magical, remember?"

"There!" Sunny insisted, and walked over to the table. We followed her, and saw what she was pointing at. A tiny speck of white poked out from under the tablecloth. I knelt down to look and could see that it was the edge of a piece of paper.

"Good thing you're closer to the ground than we are, Sunny," I said, "We never would have noticed that."

"But what is it?" Violet asked as I slid it out from under the tablecloth.

Klaus took out his glasses to read the writing on the piece of paper. "Now I feel less like a freak and more like myself," he said with a smile, and began to read aloud. " 'My Dear Duchess, Your masked ball sounds like a fantastic evening, and I look forward to . . .'" His voice trailed off and his eyes scanned the rest of the page. "It's just a note about some party," he said.

"What's it doing underneath a tablecloth?" Violet asked.

"It doesn't seem important to me," Klaus said, "but I guess it was important enough that she hid it."

"Let's see what else she's hiding," I said, and lifted the end of the tablecloth. All four of us gasped simultaneously.

There was what seemed like a library of information like the Library of Records.

"Look at all this," Violet said, "There are newspaper articles, magazines, letters, files, photographs—all sorts of documents. Madame Lulu tells people to close their eyes and concentrate, and then she looks through all this material and finds the answers."

"And they can't hear her shuffling paper," Klaus said, "over the hum of the lightning device."

"It's like taking a test," I said, "with all the answers hidden in your school desk."

"Cheat!" Sunny said.

"It is cheating," Klaus said, "but maybe her cheating can help us. Look, here's an article from _The Daily Punctilio_."

"VILLAGE OF FOWL DEVOTEES TO PARTICIPATE IN NEW GUARGIAN PROGRAM," Violet read aloud, peering over Klaus' shoulder at the headline.

"'The Council of Elders announced yesterday that they would care for the troublesome Baudelaire orphans,'" Klaus read, "'as part of the city government's new program inspired by aphorism "It takes a village to raise a child." ' "

"That's how Count Olaf found you!" I cried. "That whole time he had been gone from the house, he was really here learning about your whereabouts from Madame Lulu. Of course, I didn't know about Madame Lulu or this fortune-telling thing at all."

Klaus flipped through a pile of paper until he saw another piece of paper. "Look," he said, "It's a list of new students at Prufrock Preparatory School. Somehow Madame Lulu got ahold of it and passed on the information to Olaf."

"Us!" Sunny said, showing us a photograph. It was a small, blurry photograph of the Baudelaires and I sitting on the edge of Damocles Dock, where we had arrived for our stay with Aunt Josephine. Mr. Poe was reaching his hand out to call for a taxi and Violet stared glumly into a paper sack. I remember Mr. Poe had given each of us a bag of peppermints, which the Baudelaires were allergic to.

"Those are the peppermints Mr. Poe gave us," I said.

"That's right," Violet said quietly. "I'd almost forgotten about those."

"But who took this?" Klaus asked, "Who was watching us that day?"

"Back," Sunny said, and turned the photograph over. In messy handwriting a message was written.

"I think it says, 'This might be hopeful,'" Klaus said.

"Or 'helpful.'" I said, " 'This might be helpful'."

"And it's signed with one initial—I think it's an R, or maybe a K." Violet added, "But who would want a photograph of us?"

"Maybe it's not what we think," I said, thinking about Lemony Snicket, "Do you remember I told you about Monty Kensicle, Klaus? Well, he's investigating our unfortunate circumstances and maybe he needed to gather evidence."

"Or it could have been someone as awful as Olaf," Klaus pointed out, "it gives me the shivers to think someone took our picture when we didn't know it. That means someone could be taking our photograph at any moment."

I looked around for any eye shaped paintings or anything that could indicate a hidden camera like the one in Olaf's house. It was eerie to think someone was watching us and I realized I knew what the characters in Pretty Little Liars felt. I shuddered.

"Speaking of creepy photographs," I said, "when I was living in Olaf's house, the reason why I snuck into his tower room with the Quagmires was to search for evidence. And we discovered that Olaf has hidden cameras all over his house. Those eye paintings aren't just for show."

The Baudelaires shuddered. "Do you mean he was watching our every move?" Klaus said, "Now I'm even more scared."

"Let's calm down," Violet said, suddenly, "Remember the time we watched a scary movie when our parents were out for the evening, and we were jumpy for the rest of the night? Every time we heard a noise we thought vampires were breaking into the house to take us away."

"Maybe somebody was breaking into the house to take us away," Klaus said, and pointed to the photograph. "Sometimes things can go on right in front of your nose, but you don't know about them."

"It's not like this kind of thing hasn't been done before," I said, "with all this technology it's almost too easy to track someone. Wait a second…"

I had been looking at all the contents of the library as I spoke and something caught my eye. It was also a photograph. I picked it up and studied it carefully. It was a photo of a woman I knew. The woman had long, blonde hair that was pulled back into a complicated knot and she wore a sleek black dress. The woman appeared to be quite young, in her early twenties, I think. The woman sat at a table with white tablecloth draped over it. Her head was turned toward the camera, but her eyes, which were a light blue, were looking to her right to whoever sat next to her. It was only half of a photograph as someone had ripped it down the middle but I knew there was another person beside the woman because a hand was clasped over hers. The hand over the woman's had its fingers spread a little so I could make out a ring on her finger.

"What's that?" Klaus asked, looking at it curiously.

"My mother," I managed. My voice sounded choked, probably because seeing my mother looking so young and happy made it difficult not to cry. "This must have been taken a long time ago." I figured the person beside my mother was probably my father and it made me wonder why everyone seemed to be ripping pictures of them apart. Like Olaf did to my parent's wedding photo.

I turned the photo over as Sunny had done with the other one, but there was nothing written on the back except for a single letter A. A for Abigail perhaps.

"All this is really giving me the creeps," Klaus said, "How did Madame Lulu get all of this information?"

"Heebie-jeebies," Sunny said, meaning, "Let's get out of here. I'm really getting the creeps."

"Me, too," Violet said, "but let's take all these documents with us. Maybe we can find someplace to look through them and find the information we want."

"We can't take all these papers with us," Klaus said, "There are stacks and stacks. It would be like checking out every single book in the library, just find the one you wanted to read."

"We'll stuff our pockets," Violet said.

"My pockets are already stuffed," Klaus said, "I have page thirteen of the Snicket file and all those fragments of the Quagmire notebooks. I can't get rid of those, but I don't have room for anything else. It's as if all the world's secrets are here on paper, but which secrets do we take with us?"

"Maybe we can look through it quickly right here," Violet said, "and take anything that has our names on it."

"That's not the best method of research," Klaus said, "but I guess it will have to do. Here, help me lift the tablecloth further so we can see everything better."

Klaus and Violet began to lift the tablecloth and I stuffed the photograph into the side of the dress so I could keep it without Olaf or Esmé or any other nosy person won't see it. They already took away the file with the only photos of my parents together that I would probably never see again.

I gazed back at Violet and Klaus who were struggling to lift the tablecloth. It was sliding back and forth and Madame Lulu's crystal ball began to slide closer and closer to the edge of the table.

"Be careful," I said.

"You're right," Violet said, "Let's be careful."

"Right," Klaus said. "We don't want to knock anything over."

"You know, about what you said earlier," I said, "I know what V.F.D. stands for. It stands for Volunteer Fi—"

I didn't get to finish my sentence, for I was interrupted by a dull _thunk_ and a loud, clattering crash. I flinched and squeezed my eyes shut, I was afraid to watch. But I knew if I opened my eyes, I would see glass shattered on the floor from the crystal ball falling off the table. I just hoped no one heard it, but with our luck, it was definite that someone did. In fact, a few moments later, Madame Lulu opened the flap of the tent and stepped inside.

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><p><strong>Review! :) (BTW i just realized that Jane's mom's initial is an A lol)<strong>


	5. The Imposter

**Here's a new chapter! **

**EnJoY and Review please! :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: The Imposter<strong>

"What are you doing here, please?" Madame Lulu snarled.

She strode quickly toward us and her eyes were narrowed into slits. "What are the freaks doing in the tent, please, and what are freaks doing under the table, please, and, please, why is the orphan girl with you, please, and please answer me this instant, please, or you will be very, very sorry, please, thank you!"

My eyes narrowed at Madame Lulu, the discovery of her deceit caused anger to pulse through me. I wasn't afraid…well except that I was a little afraid that my being here would give the Baudelaires away. I stood resolute along side the Baudelaires. Madame Lulu continued to yell but I found myself without any fearful thoughts.

"How dare you, please, enter the tent without permission of Madame Lulu!" Madame Lulu cried. "I am the boss of Caligari Carnival, please, and you must obey me every single moment of your freakish lives! And you are the orphan of Count Olaf who should not be sneaking around in my tent! Please, I have never seen, please, the freaks who are so ungrateful to Madame Lulu! I should have expected this from orphan; Olaf told me about the trouble you've gotten in! You are all in the worst of the trouble, please!" Madame Lulu had reached the table by now and saw the pile of broken glass scattered all over the floor. "You are the breakers of the crystal ball!" she bellowed, pointing a filthy fingernail at us. "You should be ashamed of your freaky selves! All of you! The crystal ball is the very valuable thing, please, and is having of the magical powers!"

"Don't call me a freak," I said, angrily, "And you're the one who's going to be in trouble if Olaf finds out! The evidence is all here and I'd be more than happy to tell!"

"Fraud!" Sunny shrieked.

"That crystal ball wasn't magical!" Violet translated with fury, "It was plain glass! And you're not a real fortune-teller, either! We analyzed your lightning device, and we found your archival library!"

"This is all one big disguise," Klaus said, motioning around the tent, "You're the one who should be ashamed of yourself."

"Ple—" Madame Lulu said, but she closed her mouth and looked down at us with wide eyes. Then she sank down in a chair, laid her head down beside the crystal ball, and began to sob. "I am ashamed of myself," she said, her voice losing her accent. She reached up to her turban and unraveled it to reveal her long, blond hair. "I am utterly ashamed of myself," she said, through her tears, and her shoulders racked with sobs.

Even though I was still a little angry, I couldn't help but feel a bit sad too as she burst into tears.

"Madame Lulu," Violet said firmly, though it was a little softer, "Why did you—"

"Oh," Madame Lulu cried, when she heard her name, "don't call me that." She reached up to her neck and yanked on the cord that was attached to the eye around her neck. It broke, dropping to the floor beside the pieces of shattered glass while she continued to cry. "My name is Olivia," she said finally, with a sigh. "I'm not Madame Lulu and I'm not a fortune-teller."

"But why are you pretending to be these things?" Klaus asked. "Why are you wearing a disguise? Why are you helping Count Olaf?"

"I try to help everyone," Olivia said miserably. "My motto is 'give people what they want'. That's why I'm here at the carnival. I pretend to be a fortune-teller, and tell people whatever it is they want to hear. If Count Olaf or one of his henchmen steps inside and asks me where the Baudelaires are, I tell them. If Jacques Snicket or another volunteer steps inside and asks me if his brother is alive, I tell them."

I felt my brain filling with questions and I didn't know which one to ask. How did she know Jacques Snicket?

"But where do you learn the answers?" Violet asked, pointing to the piles of paper underneath the table. "Where does all this information come from?"

"Libraries, mostly," Olivia said, wiping her eyes. "If you want people to think you're a fortune teller, you have to answer their questions, and the answer to nearly every question is written down someplace. It just might take a while to find. It's taken me a long time to gather my archival library, and I still don't have all the answers I've been looking for. So sometimes, when someone asks me a question and I don't know the answer, I just make something up."

"When you told Count Olaf that one of our parents was alive," Klaus asked, "were you making it up, or did you know the answer?"

Olivia frowned. "Count Olaf didn't ask anything about the parents of any carnival frea—wait a minute. Your voices sound different. Beverly, you have a ribbon in your hair, and your other head is wearing glasses. What's going on?"

I glanced at the Baudelaires with wide eyes. Oh no, this was it. Madame Lulu knew and she would tell Count Olaf immediately and then we would all be toast. My eyes widened when I watched in horror as the Baudelaires removed their disguises. Sunny unwrapped the beard from around her and Klaus and Violet changed out of the outfit they wore. Violet and Klaus shook the talcum powder out of their hair and rubbed at their faces so their scars faded.

"I'm not really Beverly," Violet said, "and this is my brother, not my other head. And that's not Chabo the Wolf Baby. She's—"

"I know who she is," Olivia said, glancing at the Baudelaires in amazement. "I know who all of you are. You're the Baudelaires!"

"Yes," I said, stepping in front of them, "So you'd better not tell or I'll tell Olaf your secret."

"It's okay, Jane," Klaus reassured me before he looked at Madame Lulu. "Yes," Klaus said, repeating me. "We're the Baudelaires—three of them, anyway. We're not sure, but we think there may be a fourth. We think one of our parents may be alive."

"Not sure?" Olivia asked. "Isn't the answer in the Snicket file?"

"We just have the last page of the Snicket file," Klaus said, and pulled out page thirteen out of his pocket again. "We're trying to find the rest of it before Olaf does. But the last page says that there may be a survivor of the fire. Do you know if that's true?"

"I have no idea," Olivia admitted, "I've been looking for the Snicket file myself. Every time I see a piece of paper blow by, I chase after it to see if it's one of the pages."

"But you told Count Olaf that one of our parents is alive," Violet said, "and that they're hiding in the Mortmain Mountains."

"I was just guessing," Olivia said, "if one of your parents has survived, though, that's probably where they'd be. Somewhere in the Mortmain Mountains is one of the last surviving headquarters of V.F.D. But you know that, of course."

"We don't know that," Klaus said. "We don't even know what V.F.D. stands for. Jane was just about to tell us."

"Then how did you learn to disguise yourselves?" Olivia asked the Baudelaires in astonishment.

"Well," I said, "when you're surrounded by Olaf and his constant scheming, you're bound to pick up a few tricks. He disguises himself all the time."

"But they also used all three phases of V.F.D. Disguise Training," Olivia went on, "veiled facial disguises, with your fake scars, various finery disguises, with the clothing you wore, and voice fakery disguises, with the different voices you used. Now that I think of it, you're even using disguises that look like things in my disguise kit."

Olivia got out of the chair and went over to the trunk in the corner. She took a key from out of her pocket and unlocked it, going through its contents. She rummaged through until she pulled out a wig that looked like the one Count Olaf had used when being Shirley and a fake wooden leg from when he disguised himself as Captain Sham. There were pots like the ones the bald man had used when we were working at the lumbermill and a motorcycle helmet that matched the one Esmé had used when she disguised as a police officer. At last, she held up a shirt decorated with fancy ruffles identical to the one that Violet and Klaus had worn. "You see," she said, "This is the same shirt as the one you two were wearing."

"But we got ours from Count Olaf's trunk," Violet said.

"That makes sense," Olivia replied. "All volunteers have the same disguise kit. There are people using these disguises all over the world, trying to bring Count Olaf to justice."

"What?" Sunny asked.

"I'm confused, too," Klaus said. "We're all confused, Olivia. What is V.F.D.? Sometimes it seems like they're good people, and sometimes it seems like they're bad people."

"It's not as simple as all that," Olivia said miserably. She took out a surgical mask from the trunk and held it in her hand. "The items in the disguise kit are only things. You can use these things to help people or to harm them, and many people use them to do both. Sometimes it's hard to know which disguise to use, or what to do once you've put one on."

"I don't understand," I said.

"Some people are like those lions Olaf brought here," Olivia said. "They start out being good people, but before they know it they've become something else. Those lions used to be noble creatures. A friend of mine trained them to smell smoke, which was very helpful in our work. But now Count Olaf is denying them food, and hitting them with his whip, and tomorrow afternoon they'll probably devour one of the freaks. The world is a harum-scarum place."

"Harum?" Sunny asked.

"It's complicated and confusing," Olivia explained, :They say that long ago it was simple and quiet, but that might be a legend. There was a schism in V.F.D.—a great big fight between many of the members—and since then it's been hard for me to know what to do. I never thought I'd be the sort of person who helps villains, but now I do. Haven't you ever found yourself doing something you never thought you'd do?"

"I guess so," Klaus said, and turned to us. "Remember when we stole those keys from Hal, at the Library of Records? I never thought I'd be a thief."

"Me neither," I said, I frowned sadly, "and I stole the Murray file. But now it's been burned to ashes."

"Flynn," Sunny said, which meant something like, "And I never thought I would become a violent person, but I engaged in a sword fight with Dr. Orwell."

"We've all done things we never thought we'd do," Violet said, "But we always had a good reason."

"Everybody thinks they have a good reason," Olivia said, "Count Olaf thinks getting a fortune is a good reason to slaughter you. Esmé Squalor thinks being Olaf's girlfriend is good reason to join his troupe. And when I told Count Olaf where to find you, I had a good reason—because my motto is 'give people what they want.'"

"I'm not so sure that's a very good reason," I said.

The Baudelaires nodded in agreement.

"You've caused a lot of grief, Olivia," Violet said, "to a lot of people, just so you could give Count Olaf what he wanted."

Olivia nodded and tears fell from her eyes once again. "I know it," she said miserably. "I'm ashamed of myself. But I don't know what else to do."

"You could stop helping Olaf," Klaus said, "and help us instead. You could tell us everything you know about V.F.D. And you could take us to the Mortmain Mountains to see if one of our parents is really alive."

"I don't know," Olivia said. "I've behaved so badly for so long, but maybe I could change." She stood up straight, and looked gloomily around the darkening tent. "I used to be a noble person," she said. "Do you think I could be noble again?"

"Perhaps," I said, "We'll find out. We could leave together right now, and head north."

"But how?" Olivia asked, "We don't have a car, or a minivan, or four horses, or a large slingshot, or any other way to get out of the hinterlands."

Violet retied the ribbon in her hair and gazed up at the ceiling in thought. "Olivia," she said at last, "do the carts on that rollercoaster still work?"

"The carts?" Olivia repeated, "Sort of. The wheels move, but there's a small engine in each cart, and I think they've rusted away."

"I think I could rebuild an engine using your lightning device," Violet said, "After all, that piece of rubber is a bit like—"

"A fan belt!" Olivia finished. "That's a good idea, Violet."

"I'll sneak out to the rollercoaster tonight," Violet said, "and get to work. We'll leave in the morning, before anyone gets up."

"Better not do it tonight," Olivia said. "Count Olaf or his henchmen are always lurking around at night. Especially since Jamie has her performance. It's be better to leave in the afternoon, when everyone is at the House of Freaks. You can put the invention together first thing in the morning, when Olaf will be here asking the crystal ball about you."

"What will you do then?" I asked.

"I have a spare crystal ball," Olivia answered, "That isn't the first one that's been broken."

"That's not what I mean," I said, "I mean, you won't tell Count Olaf that the Baudelaires are here at the carnival, will you?"

Olivia paused for a second, and then shook her head. "No," she said, but she did not sound certain and it made me a little uneasy.

"Promise?" Sunny asked.

Olivia gazed down at Sunny for a long time before she answered in finality, but in a quiet voice, "Yes. I promise, if you promise to take me with you to find V.F.D."

"We promise," Violet said, and we nodded in agreement. "Now, let's start at the beginning. What does V.F.D. stand for?"

"Madame Lulu!" called a raspy voice from outside the tent. I had to stop myself from groaning as I recognized Count Olaf's voice. I glanced at the Baudelaires in dismay. "Madame Lulu! Where are you?"

"I am in fortune-telling tent, my Olaf," Olivia replied in her accent. "But do not come in, please. I am doing secret ritual with crystal ball of mine."

"Well, hurry up," Olaf said grumpily. "The pit is done, and I'm very thirsty. Come pour us all some wine."

"Just one minute, my Olaf," Olivia said, reaching to grab the material for her turban. "Why don't you be taking of a shower, please? You must be sweaty from the pit digging, and when you are done we will all be having of the wine together."

"Don't be ridiculous," Count Olaf replied. "I took a shower ten days ago. I'll go put on some extra cologne and meet you in your caravan. Oh, and could you get the orphan brat from the freaks? I want to boss her around some more."

I scowled.

"Yes, my Olaf," Olivia called, and turned to whisper to us as she fixed the turban back around her hair. "We'd better cut short our conversation," she said. "The others will be looking for you. When we leave here tomorrow, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

"Couldn't you just tell us a few things now?" Klaus asked. I hoped she would, I couldn't stand not knowing all the answers to the questions I had for much longer.

"No, no," Olivia decided. "Here, I'd better help you get back into your disguises or you'll get caught."

The Baudelaires looked at one another with reluctance. "I guess you're right," Violet said finally. "The others will be looking for us."

"Proffco," Sunny said, which meant "I guess so."

The Baudelaire put on their outfits and so did Olivia.

"Your scars," I reminded the Baudelaires, "You rubbed them off."

"And our hair needs repowdering," Violet said.

"I have a makeup pencil, please," Olivia said, reaching into the trunk, "and also the powder of talcum."

"You don't have to use your accent right now," Violet said, removing the ribbon from her hair.

"Is good practice, please," Olivia replied. "I must be thinking of myself as Madame Lulu, otherwise I will please be forgetting of the disguise."

"But you'll remember our promises, won't you?" Klaus asked.

"Promises?" Madame Lulu repeated.

"You promised you wouldn't tell Count Olaf that we're here," Violet said, "and we promised to take you with us to the Mortmain Mountains."

"Of course, Beverly," Madame Lulu replied. "I will be keeping of the promise to the freaks and of the orphan."

"I'm not Beverly," Violet said, "and I'm not a freak."

"Madame Lulu smiled as we helped redraw the scars on the Violet and Klaus' faces. "But it is time for disguises, please," she said. "Don't be forgetting of your disguised voices, or you will be recognized."

"We won't forget our disguises," Klaus said, putting his glasses back in his pocket, "and you won't forget your promise, right?"

We stepped out of the tent with Madame Lulu and saw the blue light of the famous hinterlands sunset. It was like the glow that occurred during sunrise, where the world just went still for a moment as the sun's rays made the world look a little less dangerous.

"Goodnight, my freaky ones," she said and as the Baudelaires made their way back towards the freak caravan, I wasn't certain whether Madame Lulu was telling the truth or just telling us what we wanted to hear.

"Come, child," Madame Lulu said, "it's almost time for performance of you, please."

I followed Madame Lulu back to her caravan, only to be bombarded by Olaf bossing me around. Esmé was the only one who wasn't and that's because she didn't want my outfit to be ruined. After they drank wine and talked on and on about the lions, Madame Lulu announced that it was time for me to perform. I wasn't really in the mood to perform, especially in this ridiculous outfit, but I climbed on the little stage as the crowd formed with the guitar Madame Lulu gave me and sang:

"_Tell me the wars you're fighting_

_Behind the smile you're hiding_

_All the things I know you want to say_

_We tried our best to find us_

_But there are no lights to guide us_

_I can't sleep beside a stranger now_

_Piece by piece we fall apart_

_With every beat slows down my heart_

_So I'll just say what you won't say_

_And I'll take the blame, if it's for your sake_

_No turning back on what you can't save_

_So far gone_

_Yeah, we're so far gone_

_I've tried hard to remember_

_This prison cell used to be a shelter_

_Now we're just looking for the best way out_

_And I can't fight you anymore_

_You're already one foot out the door_

_So I'll just say what you won't say_

_And I'll take the blame, if it's for your sake_

_No turning back on what you can't save_

_So far gone,_

_Yeah, we're so far gone_

_And this is the face of letting go_

_And these are things we already know_

_So I'll just say what you won't say_

_And I'll take the blame, if it's for your sake_

_No turning back on what you can't save_

_So I'll just say what you won't say_

_And I'll take the blame, if it is for your sake _

_No turning back on what you can't save_

_So far gone,_

_Yeah, we're so far gone_

_Yeah, we're so far gone_

_So I'll just what you won't say."_

The song ended and there were cheers for more. I ended up singing a variety of songs ranging from broadway to pop, one after the other and I grew tired quite quickly. But the crowd kept pressing for more so Olaf and Madame Lulu kept urging me to sing more songs. I guess it's a bit of a good thing that the crowd liked my voice, but I was having trouble enjoying it.

Olaf's troupe lingered to watch, but they mostly ignored the songs and chatted more garbled as their glasses emptied of wine. Esmé wasn't drinking wine because she preferred buttermilk so she watched more often. But I think she had a look in her eyes that said she was probably scheming a plan for revenge or perhaps a plan for me to enter beauty pageants. Olaf was laughing away with his troupe, but sometimes I felt his eyes on me like they usually were when he knew something that I didn't. I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Madame Lulu who was beside him, feeling uneasy about what Madame Lulu would say tomorrow morning. Could we really trust her? After all, she's been helping Olaf for so long. Could people really just change like that?

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><p><strong>The song is <em>So Far Gone<em> by James Blunt, i hope you liked the choice. **

**Review! **

**Next chapter will be out soon. :)**


	6. I Love Freaks

**Here's a new chapter and as you can probably infer from the chapter title, it's more of Esmé and her scheme. Well, ENJOY!**

**In response to SideshowJazz1's review: I was thinking about changing how Count Olaf finds out. Though i still don't really like Madame Lulu (mostly because she _did_ betray the Baudelaires in the books) **

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: I Love Freaks<strong>

When the performance was finally over I climbed off the stage, my eyes drooping from exhaustion. But I wouldn't get to sleep yet because as soon as I gave Madame Lulu back the guitar, Esmé Squalor was dragging me to the guest caravan, telling the others that my outfit needed to be readjusted. That would turn out to be an understatement.

I went to my room first to put away that picture of my mom and the lock of hair before I allowed Esmé to bring me wherever she was thinking of taking me.

"What exactly are we doing?" I asked as Esmé shut the door of the room she shared with Count Olaf. We were in here once again and this time I stayed near the door in case I was contaminated by its filthy contents.

Esmé was grinning from ear to ear in wickedly. "I've been doing a lot of thinking since those lions arrived and I think I know how we can get revenge on Madame Lulu."

"It better not involve me pushing Madame Lulu into the pit," I muttered, "I will not do that no matter what."

"Not you," Esmé said, "we'll get the freaks to do it."

I frowned thinking of the Baudelaires. No way was I going to allow Esmé to force them to kill someone.

"And what makes you think they'll agree to it?" I asked.

"Because," Esmé said and rummaged through her suitcase until she produced a long, white gown decorated with some swirling designs and a sash with the words I LOVE FREAKS written across it. Instead of the word 'love', though, there was an enormous heart. "If they push Madame Lulu, I'll reward them by letting them join Olaf's troupe."

"Why would they want to do that?" I asked as Esmé continued to pull out more parts of her ridiculous outfit. Now there were two white gowns and I almost groaned when I realized I was doomed to wear another outfit as crazy as this one.

"The life of a freak is a miserable one," Esmé said, "don't you think they'd rather be in Olaf's troupe where people are appreciated for being a freak rather being made fun of at the House of Freaks?"

I frowned. "I suppose," I said.

"Then, put this dress on," Esmé said, "and come with me to convince them to do my bidding."

I was reluctant to help with such a thing but I sighed and let Esmé help me take off the carnival dress. I slid the white gown on and was happy to see that it fit alright. Soon Esmé and I were in matching outfits. We both had large brown sacks tied to one of the shoulders of the gowns and we both wore an odd round hat on our heads. The hats had black thread poking out of the tops, and they each had a large, angry face that Esmé had drawn on the front of them. I didn't think there was an outfit as ridiculous as the carnival one until I saw this one. I couldn't imagine who had the idea to make this outfit be considered fashionable in any way.

"There are gifts for the freaks in each of our sacks," Esmé said, "I thought it would be nice to get them something. Now, when we go in there, we both have to make them believe that we love freaks. If you're anything like you're mother and I than you can certainly act. I'll be doing most of the talking, but acting is also about reacting. That's the first lesson an actor should learn."

"I thought the first lesson was to never say no to anything," I said.

Esmé brightened. "Exactly, if you want to be a good actress, then you always have to agree," Esmé said, "which means you have to agree that you love freaks otherwise the performance would be dead. Also if you'd like, you could push Madame Lulu and join Olaf's troupe. I'm sure once you've proved yourself, you'll be allowed to join."

"No way," I said shaking my head.

"I might like you better if you did," Esmé said, "you could start a new fashionable life with my help."

"Sorry, Esmé," I said, "but there are some things that I can't agree on. If I agreed to everything you told me, there wouldn't be any conflict. The story wouldn't be nearly as dramatic."

Esmé pursed her lips. "Alright," she said, "I suppose you're right. I'm sure one of the freaks will do it anyways. Now let's go before Olaf gets suspicious and tries to stop us. He can't know until Madame Lulu's out of the picture. It'll be like a surprise gift."

"I don't think killing someone is a very good gift," I said.

"What do you know?" Esmé said.

I sighed and followed Esmé from the room. We made our way over to the freak caravan and Esmé knocked on the door. "Open up, freaks," she said impatiently. "Open up. I want to talk to you."

"Just one moment, Mrs. Squalor," one of the freaks called, I think it was Hugo. "Let's all be on our best behavior," I heard him say, probably to the other freaks. "It's not often that a normal person wants to talk to us, and I think we should make the most of this opportunity."

Esmé was tapping her foot, as she grew more impatient.

Finally, the door opened and Esmé's lips curled up into a wicked smile. Hugo was standing behind the door and the rest of the freaks were sitting at a round table, including the Baudelaires. I knew their minds were probably still on our encounter with Olivia and seeing them brought back my own worried thoughts.

"I am Esmé Gigi Geniveve Squalor," Esmé announced with pride as she stepped inside the freaks' caravan. I followed quickly behind her. "And this is my…niece, Jamie Faith Murray."

I gave a small wave, feeling a little embarrassed that I was wearing this ridiculous outfit.

"What lovely outfits!" Hugo said.

"Thank you," Esmé said excitedly. She poked Colette with her fingernail and she stood so Esmé could sit down in her chair. She poked Kevin too and beckoned for me to sit. I know it was rude, but Esmé narrowed her eyes at me until I gave in and sat down. "As you can see from the front of our gowns, that we love freaks, right Jamie?"

I nodded. "Oh, yes," I said, "I love freaks."

"You do?" Kevin said, "That's very nice of you."

"Yes, it is," Esmé agreed. "I had these dresses made especially to show how much I love them. Look, there's a cushion on the shoulder of each dress, to resemble a hunchback, and our hats make us look as if we both have two heads, like Beverly and Elliot."

"You certainly look very freakish," Colette said.

Esmé frowned, obviously not expecting to hear that. "Of course, we're not really freaks," Esmé said. "I'm a normal person and Jamie is too except that she's an orphan who will inherit an enormous fortune. But we both wanted to show you all how much I admire you. Now, please, bring me a carton of buttermilk. It's very in. Jamie will have one too."

"Actually I would prefer water," I said. Esmé scowled at me.

"We don't have any buttermilk," Hugo said, "but I think we have some cranberry juice, or I could make you some hot chocolate. Chabo here taught me to add cinnamon to the hot chocolate, and it tastes delicious."

"Tom ka gai!" Sunny shrieked.

"And we also have soup," Hugo said.

Esmé glanced down at Sunny and frowned. "No, thank you," she said, "although it's very kind of you to offer. In fact, you freaks are so kind that I consider you to be more than employees at this carnival I happen to be visiting. I consider you to be some of my closest friends. Don't you think so too, Jamie?"

I nodded. "Of course," I said, "I am an orphan so I've never had many friends."

"Until now," Esmé added.

The freaks except for the Baudelaires were thrilled. Hugo beamed and Kevin blushed. Colette was so excited that she twisted her body until it resembled the letter K and the letter S simultaneously.

"Oh, Esmé," Colette said. "Do you really mean it?"

"Of course I mean it," Esmé said, gesturing to both our gowns. "I would rather be here with you than with the finest people in the world."

Esmé pinched my arm with her fingernails.

"Me too," I blurted, "I feel like Annie when she got to live with Mr. Warbucks."

"Gosh," Kevin said, "No normal person has ever called me a friend."

"Well, that's what you are," Esmé said, and she leaned toward Kevin to kiss him on the nose. "You're all freaky friends of myself and Jamie. And it makes us sad to think that one of you will be eaten by lions tomorrow." Esmé pulled out a handkerchief out of the pocket of her gown that was embroidered to match the slogan on our gowns. I reached into my gown's pocket and realized I had an identical one. Esmé was dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief and I mimicked her. It was easy to produce fake tears because I really was sad that one of the freaks would have to be eaten by lions tomorrow and also Esmé kept pinching me. "See, we have real tears in our eyes from only thinking about it," she explained.

"There, there, close friends," Kevin said and patted both of our hands. I realized his hand was unusually strong. Was that his freakish quality? I don't think it was very freakish to be super strong. Actually, it would be a bit cool rather than freakish. "Don't be sad."

"I can't help it," Esmé said, yanking her hand away. I wasn't planning on being rude like Esmé by leaning away, but I guess she thought freaks were as infectious as birds and Chabo the Wolf Baby because she placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me back. "But we have an opportunity for you that might make all of us very, very happy."

"An opportunity?" Hugo asked. "Why, Beverly and Elliot were just telling us that an opportunity could come along at any minute."

"And they were right," Esmé said. "Tonight I am offering you the opportunity to quit your jobs at the House of Freaks, and join Count Olaf and myself in his troupe."

"What would we do exactly?" Hugo asked.

Esmé smiled. "It's a theatrical troupe," she said, "so you'd be wearing costumes and doing dramatic exercises, and occasionally committing crimes."

"Dramatic exercises!" Kevin exclaimed, his hands clasped to his heart. "It's always been my heart's desire to perform on a stage!"

"And I've always wanted to wear a costume!" Hugo said.

"But you do perform on a stage," Violet said, "and you wear an ill-fitting costume every day at the House of Freaks."

"If you joined, you'd get to travel with us to exciting places," Esmé continued, glaring at Violet. "Members of Count Olaf's troupe have seen the trees of Finite Forest, and the shores of Lake Lachrymose, and the crows of the Village of Fowl Devotees, although they always have to sit in the back seat. And, best of all, you'd get to work for Count Olaf, one of the most brilliant and handsome men who ever walked the face of the earth."

At this, I couldn't help but giggle and attempted to conceal them by pretending to cough. I could feel Esmé glaring at me, but that only made me laugh and cough more. I caught Klaus' eye and if he wasn't in disguise, I knew he would be laughing along with me.

"Do you really think that a normal man like him would want to work with freaks like us?" Colette asked.

"Of course he would," Esmé said. "Count Olaf doesn't care whether you have something wrong with you or if you're normal, as long as you're willing to carry out his orders. I think you'll find that working in Olaf's troupe is a job where people won't think you're freakish at all. And you'll be paid a fortune—at least, Count Olaf will be."

I scowled. "Fat chance," I muttered, turning it into a fake sneeze. Esmé pinched me again.

"Bless you," Esmé said though I don't think she meant it.

"Wow!" Hugo said. "What an opportunity!"

"I had a hunch you'd be excited about it," Esmé said, "No offense, Hugo. Now, if you're interested in joining, there's just one thing you need to do."

"A job interview?" Colette asked nervously.

"There's no need for close friends of mine to do anything as unpleasant as a job interview," Esmé said. "You just have to do one simple task. Tomorrow afternoon, during the show with the lions, Count Olaf will announce which freak will jump into the pit of lions. But I want whomever is chosen to throw Madame Lulu in instead."

There was silence and I watched curiously to see if any of them were still up to joining Olaf's troupe or not.

"You mean," Hugo said finally, "that you want us to murder Madame Lulu?"

"Don't think of it as murder," Esmé said. "Think of it as a dramatic exercise. It's a special surprise for Count Olaf that will prove to him that you're brave enough to join his troupe."

I suppressed a scowl. Pushing people into a pit of lions wasn't brave.

"Throwing Lulu into a pit of lions doesn't strike me as particularly brave," Colette said. "Just cruel and vicious."

"How can it be cruel and vicious to give people what they want?" Esmé asked. "You want to join Count Olaf's troupe, the crowd wants to see someone eaten by lions, and I want Madame Lulu thrown into the pit. Tomorrow, one of you will have the exciing opportunity to give everybody exactly what they want."

"Grr," Sunny growled. I wasn't sure what Sunny meant by that but I could guess it was something along the lines of, "Except for Madame Lulu."

"When you put it like that," Hugo said thoughtfully, "it doesn't sound so bad."

"Of course it doesn't," Esmé said, fixing her false head. "Besides, Madame Lulu was eager to see all of you eaten by lions, so you should be happy to throw her in the pit."

"But why do you want Madame Lulu thrown in?" Colette asked.

Esmé scowled. "Count Olaf thinks we have to make this carnival popular, so that Madame Lulu will help us with her crystal ball," she said, "but I don't think we need her help. Besides, I'm tired of my boyfriend buying her presents."

"That doesn't seem like a good reason for someone to be eaten by lions," Violet said.

"I'm not surprised that a two-headed person like yourself is a little confused," Esmé said and her hands reached out to pat both Violet and Klaus' scarred faces. "Once you join Olaf's troupe, you won't be troubled by that kind of freakish thinking any longer."

"Just think," Hugo said, "tomorrow we'll stop being freaks, and we'll be henchmen of Count Olaf."

"I prefer the term henchpeople," Colette said.

Esmé smiled and opened the sack on her shoulder. "To celebrate your new jobs," she said, "I brought each of you a present."

"A present!" Kevin cried. "Madame Lulu never gave us presents."

"This is for you, Hugo," Esmé said, and took out an oversized coat that I recognized as apart of the disguise worn by the hookhanded man when he was pretending to be a doorman. Hugo tried it on and the coat was big enough to disguise his hunchback. He looked joylfully at himself in the mirror and his coworkers.

"It covers my hunchback!" he said happily. "I look normal, instead of freakish!"

"You see?" Esmé said. "Count Olaf is already making your life much better. And look what I have for you, Colette." She opened my sack and pulled out a long, black robe. "It's so baggy that you can twist your body any which way, and no one will notice that you're a contortionist."

"It's like a dream come true!" Colette said, grabbing it from Esmé's hands. "I'd throw a hundred people into the lion pit to wear something like this."

"And Kevin," Esmé said, removing a rope from her sack, "look at this small piece of rope. Turn around, and I'll tie your right hand behind your back so you can't possibly use it."

"And then I'll be left-handed, like normal people!" Kevin said, jumping out of his chair to stand on his feet. I realized then that he must be ambidextrous, but I didn't see anything wrong with that. Maybe it was uncommon, but it wasn't very freakish.

Esmé tied Kevin's right hand behind his back, so he was now left-handed.

"I haven't forgotten you two," Esmé continued as she pulled a long razor out of her sack. "Chabo, here's a long razor that Count Olaf uses when he needs to disguise himself with a good shave. I thought you could use it to trim some of that ugly wolf hair. And for you, Beverly and Elliot, I have this."

She removed the sack from her gown and I took the liberty to remove my own sack. Esmé held the sack out to the Baudelaires. "This sack is perfect to cover up one of your heads," she explained, "You'll look like a normal one-headed person who just happens to have a sack balanced on their shoulder. Isn't that smashing?"

"I guess so," Klaus said.

"What's the matter with you?" Hugo demanded. "You've been offered an exciting job and given a generous present, and yet both your heads are moping around."

"You, too, Chabo," Colette said. "I can see through your fur that you don't look very enthusiastic."

"I think this might be an opportunity that we should refuse," Violet said. Klaus and Sunny nodded in agreement.

"What?" Esmé said sharply.

"It's nothing personal," Klaus added quickly, "It does seem very exciting to work in a theatrical troupe, and Count Olaf does seem like a terrific person."

"Then what's the problem?" Kevin asked.

"Well," Violet said, "I don't think I'm comfortable throwing Madame Lulu to the lions."

"As her other head, I agree," Klaus said, "and Chabo agrees, too."

"I bet she only half agrees," Hugo said, "I bet her wolf half can't wait to watch her get eaten."

Sunny growled gently and shook her head. Violet pick her up and put her on the table. "It just doesn't seem right," Violet said, "Madame Lulu isn't the nicest person I know, but I'm not sure she deserves to be devoured."

Esmé gave Klaus and Violet a huge smile and leaned forward to pat them on the head again. "Don't worry your heads over whether or not she deserves to be devoured," she said, and smiled down at Chabo. "You don't deserve to be half wolf, do you?" she asked. I looked up at Esmé now as she said this to Chabo. Her grass green eyes sparkled. "People don't always get what they deserve in this world." As she spoke Esmé had looked at me out of the corner of her eye and although she was only acting, by the flicker in her eyes, I had a feeling it was sincere. But then that small flicker faded as quickly as it had come and her eyes were back to gleaming brightly.

"It still seems like a wicked thing to do," Klaus said.

"I don't think so," Hugo said. "It's giving people what they want, just like Lulu says."

"Why don't you sleep on it?" Esmé suggested, and stood up from the table. "Right after tomorrow's show, Count Olaf is heading north to the Mortmain Mountains to take care of something important, and if Madame Lulu is eaten by then, you'll be allowed to join him. You can decide in the morning whether you want to be brave members of a theater troupe, or cowardly freaks in a rundown carnival. Come, Jamie."

I sighed and got up from my chair to follow Esmé over to the door.

"I don't need to sleep on it," Kevin said.

"Me neither," Colette said. "I can decide right now."

"Yes," Hugo agreed. "I want to join Count Olaf."

"I'm glad to hear that," Esmé said, "maybe you can convince your coworkers to join you in joining him." She looked scornfully at them as she opened the door to the caravan. It was still dark out, cloaking the world. "Think about this, Beverly and Elliot, and Chabo, too," she said, "It just might be a wicked thing, throwing Madame Lulu into a pit full of carnivorous lions." She took a step outside and beckoned me to follow her. She looked almost like a ghost with the white gown on and I was positive I did too. "But if you don't join us, where can you possibly go? If you don't choose the wicked thing, what in the world will you do?"

I thought about Esmé's question as she dragged me along to the guest caravan, complaining about the Baudelaire's decision. What _could_ the Baudelaires do? And what could I do to help them if they were selected? My head hurt just thinking about it. Well, if we stick to our plan of sneaking away in the morning, we'll be okay. We'll be saving the life of Madame Lulu too, which made me feel better about our decision. That was what we were going to do. It was the right decision, even though it would be the trickier path to follow.

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**I'm nearly done the next chapter so it should be up soon!**


	7. Trouble

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Trouble<strong>

We were making our way back to the guest caravan when Esmé broke the silence.

"Jamie," Esmé said as we entered, "you still have the opportunity to push Madame Lulu in yourself. If you wanted, _you_ could do the brave thing too."

"No thanks," I said, "I already told you no."

"I'm sure Olaf would let you join his troupe if you did," Esmé said, "and I would like you better. You would be like the daughter I never had and I would buy you tons of in outfits."

"Nice try," I said, "but I could never do that. I'm sticking to what I told you earlier."

"You're as stubborn as your mother was," Esmé said with a scowl.

"Whatever," I said, "I'm sure all of your plans will work out for the best. Now can I go to bed, I'm really tired. Plus, you've kept me very busy today."

"No you can't," she said, "it's only nine o'clock and after we change out of these outfits, we're going over to Madame Lulu's caravan."

"Well, I'm really tired," I said, "can't you just go?"

"And leave you here by yourself?" Esmé said, "I'm not allowed to leave you alone for long. You're coming with me."

"Fine," I said and went inside my bedroom to change out of the gown and back into my regular clothes. Thank goodness. I felt my pocket where I kept my notebook and frowned when it wasn't there. I was looking around the room for my notebook in case it had fallen out of my pocket when Esmé barged in.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

I got up off of my hands and knees since I had been looking underneath the hammock. I smiled trying to look innocent. "I thought I saw a mouse hole. But it's just a little crack. Nothing to be worried about."

"Good," Esmé said looking at the spot underneath the hammock as if a monster was hidden under there. "I don't like mice."

"Me neither," I said as I followed her out of the room. "One time this girl in my school put a mouse in my bed when I was sleeping. I woke up and it was sitting right on my neck. It gave me such a fright that I fell out of bed. But it's rats that are the worst. To think some people have rats as pets." **(A/N: Like Ron lol :P) **

"Did I ask?" Esmé said, quickening her pace so we were no longer walking next to each other.

Esmé reached Madame Lulu's caravan first and opened the door, letting it shut before I could catch it.

"Where were you?" Olaf demanded as soon as we came in.

"The gift caravan," Esmé explained sitting down beside him. There was another empty chair but I was nervous to sit there because that would put me in between the hook-handed man and the bald man. So I stayed by the door. "Isn't that right, orphan?"

I nodded. I didn't have to pretend to be irritated. "But there was nothing fashionable in there," I said, "not even a figurine that looked like a turtle or that owl one."

"Owls and turtles are filthy creatures," Esmé said.

"Of course they are," Olaf said and narrowed his eyes at me. It was obvious he was remembering Spirit. And again I had a feeling that there was something he was keeping from me because despite his icy glare, his eyes were gleaming as if he were telling a joke. "If I ever see that stupid bird again, I'll kill it and then we'll roast it for dinner." His troupe roared with drunken laughter.

I scowled. "Well, I haven't seen Spirit since," I said, crossing my arms and turning to look out the little window. "He's probably far away by now. Hopefully he found a nice home somewhere else."

"As long as it stays away from here," Esmé said, "Those things are dangerous."

"Actually, you know, ever since Spirit came I've been feeling a little…strange," I said, just to toy with them. "I have an ongoing fever and my throat is so sore." I uttered a fake cough and clutched my throat.

"Nice try," Olaf growled. "if you had bird flu, you would probably be dead already."

Olaf's troupe laughed at that.

I frowned, which made them laugh even harder.

"Well, anyways," I said, "nice chatting but I think I'm going to go to bed." I turned for the door.

"You're staying right here," Olaf growled, "I don't trust you. Now go sit down and don't talk."

"Actually," the bald man with the long nose said, his beady eyes were almost as scary as Olaf's shiny ones. "if the orphan wants to go to the guest caravan, I'd be glad to take her. Alone, of course." He winked and I shuddered.

"Um, never mind," I squeaked, "I was totally joking of course." I scrambled over to the only empty chair in between the bald man and the hook-handed man, which was better than being _alone_ with the bald man. I shuddered again.

Olaf just gave me a weird look and then, drank some more wine.

"Don't forget that tomorrow one freak will jump into that pit of lions," Olaf said, repeating what everyone was already aware of all day long, "and bring this carnival the popularity it deserves."

"You're right," Esmé said, smiling wickedly. "Someone will fall into the pit." Her eyes flickered to Madame Lulu who looked confused.

"I can hardly wait," the bald man said and his eyes flickered to me. I shuddered once more and inched farther away, though not far enough to be too close to the hook-handed man.

"And then of course once that's over with," Olaf continued, "we'll be on our way to the Mortmain Mountains to find the Baudelaire's parents. I assume it will only be one of them and I'll handle which ever one it is with ease."

"The magical crystal ball says you will," Madame Lulu said as she poured them more wine. I glanced at her and she met my gaze for a brief moment. Her expression was unreadable. Had she told Olaf when I was out of the way? Or was she really going to keep her promise?

"Prevail!" Olaf cried. "I'm nearly there. Once I get the Baudelaires and destroy V.F.D. once and for all, I'll prevail. Right, Lulu?"

Madame Lulu started her usual routine of telling Olaf he was brilliant and such. I tuned out the conversation as much as possible.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I was casted to play a major role in Molière's play, Tartuffe?" Olaf began rambling on about more of his acting career. "I played Tartuffe."

I giggled. After living in Canada for most of my life, I was nearly fluent in French. I knew that Tartuffe was French for the Imposter and the iron of it made me laugh…perhaps a little too loudly because Olaf glared at me.

I thought he would utter a retort or become irritable, but instead he gave me a sly grin.

"In fact," he said, "the night of our show was the first time I officially met your mother." He glanced at Esmé. "Esmé was performing in that play too. Don't you remember?"

"Vividly," Esmé muttered, her face expressionless, "I was the one who introduced you two."

"It's too bad she tragically died," Olaf said, "and left this bratty orphan behind."

"But now you can get the fortune," the hook-handed man said.

"Of course," Olaf said, his eyes gleaming.

I looked away, feeling uncomfortable. I know I've wanted to know everything I could about my parents. But hearing Olaf talk about my mother made me a little uneasy. I didn't like to think about Count Olaf having anything to do with either of my parents. I also felt a pang in my stomach at the thought of hearing about my mother. It wasn't that I didn't want to know all these secrets surrounding my parents, it was just that I was afraid that the answers I was looking for, were things I'd rather not know. Maybe for now, I could just pretend my parents were the happy, nice people that I remembered them as. It didn't make a difference anyways. I was still an orphan and I was still trapped in Olaf's clutches. Like when Klaus and I talked in the unfinished half of Heimlich Hospital. As long as I had the Baudelaires, none of that mattered. Right?

Soon Olaf and his troupe were laughing at something and their words were more slurred than earlier as the night wore on. They were definitely very drunk by now. Which was good because they barely paid any attention to me.

So I laid my head on the table, closing my eyes to try to sleep. I thought about the Baudelaires and for the moment, I imagined us heading to the Mortmain Mountains tomorrow morning to find one of their parents. I let myself pretend that we found their mother or father hiding out there. The Baudelaire family would be reunited, with the exception of one parent. Then, the Baudelaire parent would promise to keep us safe from Count Olaf. Perhaps, if I was lucky, I would be welcomed. Maybe their parent would adopt me and then, I could have the one thing that I've always wanted. I know that the Baudelaires considered me as someone close like family, but I always still felt as if I didn't belong. If I were adopted for real, I could be Jamie Baudelaire and have some kind of tie to them…

The shaking table startled me and woke me from my light doze. I jumped, falling out of my chair. I realized Olaf's troupe had started banging on the table and they laughed mockingly at me. Then they were back to shouting and bossing me around. I gazed gloomily out the window and wished I were with the Baudelaires instead of these terrible, noisy villains.

Finally, after what seemed like years, Olaf and his troupe decided they would retire to the guest caravan. By now I was so tired, that I was practically sleepwalking. I bumped into the door on the way out, much to the amusement of Olaf and his troupe.

I struggled through my exhaustion and quickly went to the tiny room I slept in.

I closed the door to my room, hoping it wouldn't be locked tonight and plopped down on the hammock to sleep. However, I knew before I could doze off again, I had to write everything that had happened today, down in my notebook. I got out of the hammock and groggily searched for my notebook as I did earlier. I dug through my suitcase, which had little in it but a few extra pairs of pants and some t-shirts. There were some other things too, but none of them looked like my notebook. I searched every inch of the room and the bathroom. My notebook was nowhere to be found.

"Where is it?" I cried in frustration, kicking the wall. "It has to be here somewhere…I—"

"Looking for this?"

I jumped, spinning around to see Count Olaf leaning in the doorway with an evil smile on his face. He was holding up a turquoise colored notebook that looked exactly like the notebook I had lost.

I gasped. "Where did you find that?" I asked.

"It was lying on the floor of your tiny room," Olaf said, "you really should take better care of your belongings Blondie."

"Give it back," I said, reaching for it, "don't destroy it."

"And why would I destroy it?" Count Olaf said, his eyebrow raised and his eyes grew very shiny. "You see Blondie, all your little journal entries have proven to be quite useful. To both of us."

He opened the notebook to a page and shoved it under my nose to read. I knew what it was as soon as he said that, but as I read the words describing the Baudelaires disguised as freaks, my blood ran cold and I looked up at him in horror.

His eyes narrowed into angry slits like a snake. He snatched my notebook away again.

"You knew this entire time," he growled, "those Baudebrats may have fooled me in the beginning but they're about to meet a very _gruesome_ end. Tomorrow one freak will jump into that pit of lions and thanks to you, the decision of who that will be is perfectly clear." He laughed nastily.

"You can't," I gasped, "If the Baudelaires die, you won't get their fortune."

"You really are stupid," Olaf said, "in case you've forgotten, I only need one Baudelaire to get their fortune. Soon the older Baudelaires will jump into that pit to be devoured by lions and little Sunny will be in my clutches. I hope you've said your goodbyes to Violet and your book-worm boyfriend."

"No," I said again. Dread filled me. "I-I'll tell them your plans and then I'll be sure no one will fall into the pit."

Olaf leered. "I thought you might say that," he said, "which is why I'm going to make this very clear for you. If you dare utter a single word of my plan to those twerps, I'll announce to everyone who they are. I'm sure the crowd will be just as thrilled to throw in the Baudelaire murderers. With the exception of one lucky survivor, of course."

He inched back until he was on the other side of the threshold, holding the door open and I knew any second it would slam close, leaving me trapped in utter darkness with no hope of saving the Baudelaires.

"You're more useful than I thought," Olaf said, "which is why I'm going to keep your little journal to see what other secrets you're not telling me about." My eyes widened. _No!_ Everything was written in that notebook. If he reads it, he'll find out about Monty Kensicle and all our plans. "Unless, of course, you would prefer to tell me now."

"I don't have any other secrets," I said with a steady voice and a straight face.

"You _filthy_, little liar!" Olaf roared. I shrunk back, afraid that he would strike. It didn't come though and after a moment, he chuckled to himself. "Those Baudelaires may think of you as a trustworthy friend, but when they find out how you betrayed them to me, why they'll probably never speak to you again." He laughed again. "I'll see you in the morning. Nighty, night!"

"_No!_" I yelled and lunged for the door at the same time Olaf slammed it shut. I heard the click of the lock and my fists were desperately pounding on the door. "No, no, no!" I shouted, "Let me out! Let me out!"

But the only reply was Olaf's roaring laughter that grew fainter as he walked away. I kept pounding on the door even though I knew it was a useless attempt. Eventually, I sank to the floor and began to rack with sobs. I had done it. It was my fault. We were all doomed because of me. They trusted me and I betrayed them.

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><p>It was early in the morning when I gave up on trying to sleep. I was lying on the hammock, gazing up at the ceiling and beyond the point of exhaustion. Good. I deserved to be over exhausted after I betrayed the Baudelaires. What would they say? What would they think? If they ever found out…<p>

My thoughts moved to Klaus, imagining how disappointed and upset he would be. He would completely _hate_ me. Just like I hated myself. Tears sprang in my eyes again. It was just like me, to mess up anything good that comes along into my life. Like Jacques Snicket. He was my godfather...truly one of the only family members besides Esmé who had been alive. He had needed my help and I did nothing. Now the Baudelaires needed me as well and I failed them.

"I'm so sorry," I wept, as if the Baudelaires could hear me.

Then I thought of something. I remembered the plan the Baudelaires, Olivia, and I had formulated to sneak away before the lion show. There probably wasn't anyway for me to join them as I was locked in this room, though maybe they'll head to the mountains without me. I might be a little sad to know they're gone, however, at least I'll know they're safe from Olaf.

I rolled over in my hammock and wiped my eyes, deciding to stick to that possibility. If only I could get out of this room and tell them to go without me. Hopefully, they'll come to realize it on their own.

Out of the tail of my eye, I saw something yellowish and paper-like lying on the ground beside me. I reached down to pick up what I realized was an envelope. It was heavy and the address was written in emerald-green ink. My hand trembled as I picked it up. The address was unmistakable:

_Miss J. Murray_

_ The Tiniest Room in the Guest Caravan_

_ Caligari Carnival_

_ Hinterlands_

_ United States_

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What was this letter doing here? How did it get in here? And most important, why was it addressed to me? Never in my life has anyone ever sent me mail. Who did I know that could've sent the letter? Could it be Monty Kensicle? But he always said letters were too risky, unless they were in code. I didn't know any codes though. Except for the code Isadora used. Maybe the Quagmires were trying to contact us again. Or maybe it was Mr. Poe. Except, how would he know I was Jamie Murray? It couldn't be from him.

I checked for a return address, but there was nothing but a purple wax seal on the other side. The seal had a coat of arms on it; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter _H_.

The lion stuck out to me the most. Was this some kind of coded message as I had predicted? Did someone know about the lion show to happen today? If so, what did the other animals mean? I slowly began to open it when the door swung open and Count Olaf stood in the doorway. Quickly, I hid the letter behind my back.

"Wake up, orphan," he demanded, glaring at me as usual. "It's time for Madame Lulu to confirm my suspicions with her crystal ball and you are going to—what's that behind your back?"

"N-nothing," I said, "it's just—"

"Don't lie to me," he growled and shoved me aside. I fell onto the floor and scrambled up to try and snatch the letter, however it was too late. He had already picked it up and studied the purple wax seal with the coat of arms and then, turned it over to see the address. "What's this? Who's writing to you?"

"I-I don't know," I confessed. "It was there when I woke up. I don't know anyone who would write."

"What's going on?" Esmé said as she entered the room and looked back and forth between Olaf and myself.

"Someone sent a letter to the orphan," Olaf said. "Someone knows she's with us."

"Give it to me," Esmé said, reaching her hand out, "it's probably Renée. She has strange ways of sending people letters." Esmé took the letter from Olaf and studied it. I watched as her face grew very, very pale and her mouth was agape.

"What?" Olaf asked, "Who's it from?"

Esmé looked up at me, her eyes wide. "I-I don't believe this." She tore open the envelope and pulled out a piece of parchment as yellow as the envelope. Her eyes scanned it and she handed it to Olaf to read.

"Give it to me," I said, "I want to read it."

They ignored me. Olaf read it over and I watched his eyes growing very shiny. When he was done, he and Esmé were gawking at me with icy glares.

"You're not reading this letter," Olaf said, finally, "it belongs to me now."

"Don't," I said, angrily, "it's mine! It's addressed to _me_!"

Olaf gave me a wicked smile that showed all his teeth and then, ripped the letter to bits and pieces that fell to the floor like tiny snowflakes.

I watched in despair. I knew even if I gathered all the scraps up, it would be nearly impossible to piece it together. I would never know the secrets that were contained in that letter. What if it was the solution I was looking for to help the Baudelaires?

"Now enough wasting my time," Olaf said, "Madame Lulu is waiting for me. Esmé is going to watch you until I'm done. And then, the lion show will begin." He laughed wickedly.

He left the room. Esmé immediately shoved me towards the bathroom and demanded I take a shower. She explained that she was going to do my hair and makeup again. But this time Esmé made sure to clarify that it was only for her own enjoyment as if I were her Barbie doll. And it did feel like that.

She was angry with me and when I finished showering she yanked the brush through my hair, practically pulling my hair out as she did. Esmé followed the same process as the day before. Every time I flinched or moved even an inch, she would pinch the back of my upperarm between her fingernails like last night; surprisingly, it hurt more than I thought it would.

Fortunately Esmé didn't use any curlers, except she took out a curling iron instead. I groaned and Esmé pinched me again.

"Tell me what that letter said," I demanded when she finished curling the back of my hair.

"I don't have to tell you anything," Esmé said, "now hold still, unless you prefer to be burned. It's very hot."

Esmé wrapped some more of my hair around the rod. She released it and I flinched slightly when it fell back, hot against my back.

"There," Esmé said and started to reach for the can of hairspray.

"Tell me what it said," I said again.

"Close your eyes and cover your mouth," she said, as she prepared to spray the hairspray all around. I did as she told me, but I wouldn't drop it just yet.

"Why is it so bad?" I asked when Esmé was done.

"Be quiet," Esmé said, "I'm not talking to you about it. Now close your eyes so I can put this eyeshadow on you."

I sighed in frustration, but obeyed. Neither of us said another word until Esmé had finished with applying makeup to practically every inch of my face.

"Come and put on the outfit now," she said, "you're lucky I'm letting you wear one after your lies."

I followed Esmé out of the bathroom and stared when I saw the outfit she had picked out. There was a golden colored dress with a pleated skirt. There was a tail in the back, the tip covered in dark brown fur. Dark brown fur lined the hem as well as the v-neck collar. The sleeves were also covered in fur at the ends. Attached to the collar, was a hood, also lined with fur and topped off with two round things that looked like ears. I began to question why it would have ears when I remembered the outfit I had worn last night with that weird hat with a drawing of faces.

"Put it on," Esmé said, shoving it into my hands. I changed and then, Esmé came in carrying a pair of knee-high boots with heels. The boots were the same color as the dress and the tops were also lined with fur. Esmé undid the zipper on the side of each shoe and thrust them on my feet. I was afraid to look in the mirror, but Esmé brought me over to it anyways.

I gaped. Similarly to the outfit last night, I was fully dressed for the occasion. I was dressed to look like a lion! Somehow Esmé made my hair have more volume than usual with curls. My eyelids were decorated with a dark shade of brown that was a little too thick for my taste with flecks of gold. The rest of the makeup was pretty basic.

"What do you think?" Esmé said.

I frowned at her and placed my hands firmly on my hips. "I think you should tell me what that letter was all about," I said. "I deserve to know."

Esmé scowled. "I told you Jamie," she said, "people don't always get what they deserve. Including you."

"It's my letter!" I cried in frustration. "It was for me to read!"

"Enough!" Esmé snarled. "Unless you'd rather spend the day locked in this room. Now let's go, the lion show will start soon. Don't forget that you'll be performing."

"Oh, right," I said. I'd been so absorbed in my misery over Olaf discovering that the Baudelaires are disguised as freaks that I almost forgot about my performance. I didn't really feel like singing today after everything that would happen to the Baudelaires. Just thinking about it brought fresh tears to my eyes. What was I going to do? Either way, Olaf would make sure two Baudelaires were dead by the end of the day. Whether it was from an angry mob of people hunting after who they believed to be three murderers or by ferocious, starving lions.

As we stepped outside, all my hopes that the Baudelaires had escaped were shattered, when I saw them outside Madame Lulu's fortune telling tent. A man with pimples covering his face seemed to be giving them a hard time.

"You know," Esmé said, following my gaze, "there's only one way for your friends to get out of jumping into the pit full of those starving lions."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What?"

Esmé gave me a wicked smile. "Push Madame Lulu in there instead."

"I'm not going to commit murder," I said, horrified at the thought.

"Then, I guess two of your orphan friends will be ripped apart by those beasts," she said, "Olaf might be angry, but would you rather your friends be turned into prey? Afterall, Madame Lulu is the one who's responsible for the event. And here's your chance to save them. Here's your chance to be brave."

"But it's wrong," I said, "the Baudelaires were right when they said she didn't deserve it. It doesn't matter if it was her idea to have a lion show."

"What else are you going to do then?" Esmé said, "Just like those freaks, you have no other choice. It's either Madame Lulu or the Baudelaires."

I frowned. I know it was terrible to think so, but…Esmé was right. I only had two choices. Madame Lulu or the Baudelaires. And if I saved the Baudelaires from jumping into the pit, we could still follow our plan of heading to the Mortmain Mountains even if it excluded Olivia, or perhaps myself. If I was going to do this, I didn't like the thought of joining the Baudelaires. I seemed to always be a magnet for trouble and going with them may only bring them more misery. So I guess I would stay in Olaf's clutches or his troupe…No…I couldn't. Even if I was going to commit a hideous crime, I could never join Olaf's troupe. I would never join his troupe. Thinking about my plan made me feel filthy. I was turning into a villain just as terrible as Count Olaf. But what else could I do?

It was like Violet had said when we were in the supply closet at Heimlich Hospital. We did some terrible things like stealing but we did them to save our lives. Well, this time that terrible thing may be the only way I could save the Baudelaires lives.

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	8. The Lion Show

**The next chapteris here!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight: The Lion Show<strong>

Count Olaf strode out from the tent, his eyes shining nastily and carrying a whip similar to the one he used on the lions yesterday.

"What time does the show start, freaks?" a woman with pimples covering her face asked the Baudelaires.

"The show starts right now!" Olaf cried so the Baudelaires and the two visitors noticed him there at last. When his eyes landed on the Baudelaires, they gleamed even brighter.

"The lion show begins right now!" he repeated. People began to gather around. Esmé pulled me over to the crowd, an evil grin spread across her face. "I've just had my fortune told, so I've gotten what I wanted." Olaf pointed his whip at the fortune telling tent and then at the Baudelaires. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time to go to the lion pit so we can give the rest of you what you want."

I shuddered, a horrible feeling creeping up my throat and suffocating me.

"I'm going to the pit right now!" a woman shouted among the crowd. "I want to have a good view of the show!"

"So do I," a man beside her said, "There's no point in having lions eat somebody if you can't watch it happen."

"Well, we'd better hurry," the man with the pimples on his chin said, "There's quite a crowd here."

As I looked around, his statement proved to be true. The new attraction must have spread like wildfire far beyond the hinterlands for it was far more crowded than yesterday.

"I'll lead the way to the pit," Count Olaf announced. "After all, the lion show was my idea, so I should get to walk in front."

"It was your idea?" a woman in a gray suit, chewing gum, and speaking into a microphone. I recognized her from Heimlich Hospital as she was a reporter from _The Daily Punctilio_. "I'd love to write about it in the newspaper. What is your name?"

"Count Olaf!" he said proudly.

"I can see the headline now: 'COUNT OLAF THINKS UP IDEA FOR LION SHOW,'" the reporter said. "Wait until the readers of _The Daily Punctilio_ see that!"

"Wait a minute," someone said. "I thought Count Olaf was murdered by those three children."

"That was Count Omar," the reporter replied, "I should know. I've been writing about the Baudelaires for _The Daily Punctilio_. Count Omar was murdered by those three Baudelaires children, who still remain at large."

I bit my lip. Esmé kept pulling me deeper among the crowd to get in front of them before we were left behind. Esmé wanted to be as close to the front as possible. We reached the outer part of the crowd so I didn't have to strain to see over the heads of all the adults.

"Well, if anyone ever finds them," someone in the crowd said, "we'll throw them into the lion pit."

I glanced up at Esmé who winked. I glanced back towards the action only to find that Olaf had spotted me and gave me a nasty smile. I pursed my lips and looked at the ground instead, despair crept up again like a giant wave pushing me farther and farther down.

"An excellent idea," I heard Olaf reply and knew if I dared to look up, his eyes would only be growing more and more shiny by the second, "but in the meantime, the lions will have a meal of one delicious freak. Follow me, everyone, for an afternoon of violence and sloppy eating!"

"Hooray!" cried a few members of the crowd as Olaf bowed and started to lead everyone in the direction of the ruined rollercoaster where the lions were waiting.

"Come with me, freaks," Olaf demanded, pointing at the Baudelaires. "My assistants are bringing the others. We want all you freaks assembled for the choosing ceremony."

"I will bring them, my Olaf," Madame Lulu said in her disguised accent, emerging from the fortune-telling tent. When her eyes moved to the Baudelaires, they widened and she held her hands behind her back. "You lead the crowd to pit, please, and give interview to newspaper on way."

"Oh, yes," the reporter said. "I can see the headline now: 'EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH COUNT OLAF, WHO IS NOT COUNT OMAR, WHO IS DEAD.' Wait until the readers of The Daily Punctilio see that!"

"It will be exciting for people to read about me," Count Olaf said. "All right, I'll walk with the reporter, Lulu. But hurry up with the freaks."

"Yes, my Olaf," Madame Lulu said. "Come with me, freaky peoples, please."

Madame Lulu took the Baudelaire's hands.

Esmé was pulling us around until she found the bald man.

"Go get me a chair," she ordered, "It's in to sit while watching lion shows." Then she looked at me. "I suppose the orphan should get one too." The bald man left to go get the chairs.

"Why do you suppose I should get a chair?" I asked.

Esmé smiled and patted the top of my head. "You're about to do the brave task of pushing Madame Lulu in," she said, in a low voice, "this is only one of the many opportunities you'll have if you follow through."

"The opportunity to sit?" I said, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Exactly," Esmé said.

"Well, I never said I would do it," I replied, "What gave you that impression?"

Esmé looked at me for a moment. "If you're anything like your mother, nothing will stop you from protecting the people who matter to you," she said simply.

I frowned and averted my gaze. "Perhaps there's a better way," I said, finally, more to myself than to Esmé. She didn't look convinced but led me towards the pit without another word on the matter.

In a few moments we had reached Olaf and the reporter from _The Daily Punctilio,_ who was in the middle of his 'exclusive' interview.

"And who's this?" the reporter asked because Esmé had put an arm around Olaf.

"My name is Esmé Gigi Genevieve Squalor," she announced as usual, "I'm Count Olaf's girlfriend."

"That's nice," the reporter said, "and what a lovely outfit!"

"I only wear the innest clothes," Esmé replied, making a subtle pose with the parasol that she now carried in one of her hands. The rest of her outfit consisted of a pinstripe suit and some complicated looking heels. "And so does my fabulous niece." She patted my head again. "Ja—"

"Jane Rumary," Count Olaf interjected quickly, "her name is Jane Rumary."

He narrowed his eyes at me as a warning to go along with it.

"That's what I was going to say," Esmé said.

The reporter began to ramble on about headlines and interviewing Olaf and Esmé. I wasn't mentioned again, not that I cared. I glanced behind me and could see the Baudelaires walking with Madame Lulu. Klaus caught my eye and I tried to translate my knowledge to him. If only I had telekinetic powers so he could read my mind. I could warn them without letting Olaf know, but that, unfortunately, wasn't the case.

"Well, that's all," the reporter said at last. "Let the show begin."

Olaf grinned nastily. "Yes," he said, "let's begin."

He turned to face the crowd. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the most exciting afternoon of your entire lives!" Count Olaf announce. He cracked his whip into the pit, striking the lions. They roared and gnashed their teeth in yearning. "These carnivorous lions are ready to eat a freak," he said. "But which freak will it be?"

The crowd parted to let the hook-handed man through. He led the rest of the freaks in a line towards the edge of the pit where the Baudelaires were standing. Olaf's bald associate emerged next carrying two small chairs and a long, flat piece of wood. He placed the chairs down and Esmé shoved me down into one before she took a seat in the other. The bald man placed the piece of wood at the edge of the pit so it hung over the lions like a plank. Except instead of a sea of water, it was a sea of carnivorous lions. The white-faced women emerged last, one of them carried an acoustic guitar, which was for me while the other held a small wooden box. There was a small hole in the top.

I propped the guitar against my chair, keeping one hand holding the neck. Usually, whenever I was feeling glum at my first boarding school, I would play the piano or the guitar, and all my troubles would go away. However, this guitar only made me feel worse. The wood felt too rough and unfamiliar. And it didn't have that smell that all acoustic guitars had that always comforted me. It smelled filthy, like the way I felt as I stared at the freaks lined up and then, at Madame Lulu. She caught me looking at her and her eyes widened. Did Olaf tell her about my betrayal? To think this whole time I had been worried Madame Lulu was the one who shouldn't be trusted. I should've been more worried about myself.

As I stared at her, more than two eyes stared back at me. The necklace she always wore around her neck was decorated with the familiar eye, watching me in that sinister way it always did. It was just like the one on her fortune-telling tent that concealed the initials V.F.D. My mind wandered to that owl in the gift caravan. It seemed so odd that someone would carve that same eye into a figurine of an owl that looked so much like Spirit. It was as if…whoever put it there…knew I would see it. And assumed I would be smart enough to realize that the eye was really the insignia of V.F.D. Maybe the person who put it there also sent me that letter. It made so much sense. Whoever it was tried to warn me about the owl figurine in that letter. Was that why Olaf and Esmé were so shocked? Did they just learn the secret meant for me to see?

"Are you ever going to tell me what that letter said?" I asked Esmé again.

She scowled. "Would you drop it already?" she said, "I will never tell you so quit boring me with this out conversation. It's in to keep secrets you know. And it's out to be nosy."

"Tell that to Olaf," I muttered, glaring at the ground, "he read my journal."

"Maybe," Esmé said, "but crime is also in."

I sighed. "When is crime going to be out?" I said, rolling my eyes.

"When are you going to stop boring me with pointless questions?" Esmé retorted.

"Did it have something to do with V.F.D.?" I asked.

Esmé glared at me. "What did I just tell you?"

"I know, I know," I said, "I'm not asking for details. Just answer me yes or no. Did it have anything to with V.F.D.?"

"Nope," Esmé said, "Don't bother guessing though. You'll never get it."

Alright, so if Esmé was telling the truth then it wasn't a member of V.F.D. or anything like that. I frowned, a little disappointed. Who could it have been then?

Wait a minute. I didn't know a whole lot about V.F.D. except for what it stood for. However, I did know a few people who were or stillare volunteers of V.F.D.: Jacques and Lemony Snicket, and now Olivia. Both Lemony and Olivia had spoken about the organization being clandestine and using many codes. So if whoever sent me that letter, was a volunteer, wouldn't they use a code? Maybe that's why Esmé didn't know a volunteer sent it. It made so much more sense now.

I remembered when the Quagmires had used a sort of code to tell the Baudelaires where they were being hidden and Aunt Josephine had used a code to tell us where she was hiding too. Maybe Aunt Josephine had been a member of V.F.D. Though if she had been afraid to use a phone, perhaps she wasn't the kind of person who liked to put out fires either. It was odd picturing Aunt Josephine dressed as a fire fighter, putting out a fire with one of those long hoses. Well, that wasn't important at the moment. Now I knew that the owl figurine wasn't there by coincidence. Perhaps, I could find a way to sneak over to the gift caravan and snatch it. What if whatever was in, on, or around it, would be the answer I was looking for to save the Baudelaires?

"Before we begin with the choosing ceremony," Count Olaf said, "this little orphan girl will entertain us with a song." He looked pointedly at me and I realized that was my cue.

Esmé gave me a nudge and I stood up, picking up the guitar. Even holding the guitar didn't feel right. I took a few steps toward the pit and then faced the crowd. I could feel the wood of the guitar beneath my fingertips, still too rough. I slung the strap over my shoulder and positioned my fingers on the strings. I glanced briefly at the Baudelaires and then, back at the crowd.

"This is exciting," the reporter from _The Daily Punctilio_ cried, "'YOUNG FEMALE PERFORMER, JANE RUMARY, WARMS UP CROWD WITH MUSIC'. Wait until the readers of _The Daily Punctilio_ see that!"

"I love music!" someone cried, "Almost as much as I love sloppy eating and violence!"

There were cheers. My stomach churned again. I made a small strum and cringed when it was horribly out of tune. Quickly, I turned the knobs until the sound was right.

"Hurry up and play already," a member of the audience shouted.

"I was only tuning it," I said.

"Enough stalling," Olaf said glaring at me, "the sooner you're done, the sooner we can select which freaks will jump into the pit of hungry lions. Now sing away."

My fingers felt the strings of the guitar and I tried not to breathe in the musty scent. I tried to pretend I was playing a better guitar. My fingers easily found the beginning chords of the song the way they always seemed to when I played. Struming the first few chords, I let myself find a subtle joy in the familiar way that the pick I used nicked each string to create a wonderful sound. I closed my eyes as I drew nearer to where the lyrics started, letting go of all control so that my fingers seemed to glide to each string automatically. Just as always, the melody guided me into the song so that it was almost a subconscious instinct to sing and the lyrics came easily. Soon enough the world had faded away and it was just the guitar, the melody, and myself. My eyes opened again. The only few people that I was aware of were the Baudelaires and the lions, of course. Their roars were hard to ignore.

"_If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea_

_I'll sail the world to find you_

_If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see_

_I'll be the light to guide you_

_Find out what we're made of_

_When we are called to help our friends in need_

_You can count on me like 1, 2, 3_

_I'll be there_

_And I know when I need it_

_I can count on you like 4, 3, 2_

_And you'll be there_

_'cause that's what friends are supposed to do oh yeah_

_ooooooh, oooohhh yeah yeah_

I paused to take a breath as my fingers continued to play a brief instrumental. As I listened, I realized the world had fallen silent around me. The audience was mesmerized into silence and even the lions had stopped roaring. Only Olaf and his troupe weren't affected by my singing. I guess that's what separated noble people from villains. Villainous people never cared enough to listen. Esmé Squalor was looking away, her eyes fixed on the rollercoaster behind the pit. As I neared the next verse, my eyes moved to the Baudelaires. It was them who this song was meant for afterall. Particularly Klaus—my best friend. Who I had let down…

_If you're tossin' and you're turnin_

_And you just can't fall asleep_

_I'll sing a song beside you_

_And if you ever forget how much you really mean to me_

_Every day I will remind you_

Klaus smiled then. He knew who I was singing about. Though I only returned it with a small smile. I was reminded of the night we had spent in Heimlich Hospital just talking and the morning after when we watched the sunrise. I really did mean every word of the song. I never performed something to an audience that didn't mean something to me. I couldn't give a good performance if I wasn't honest.

_Find out what we're made of_

_When we are called to help our friends in need_

_You can count on me like 1, 2, 3_

_I'll be there_

_And I know when I need it_

_I can count on you like 4, 3, 2_

_And you'll be there_

_'cause that's what friends are supposed to do oh yeah_

_ooooooh, oooohhh yeah yeah_

Tears welled up in my eyes. I knew after I pushed Madame Lulu into the pit, nothing would ever be the same between the Baudelaires and I. I knew they would hate me forever and that killed me. However, I'd rather them hate me than have to watch them die because of me.

"_You'll always have my shoulder when you cry_

_I'll never let go_

_Never say goodbye_

_You know you can count on me like 1, 2, 3_

_I'll be there_

_And I know when I need it_

_I can count on you like 4, 3, 2_

_And you'll be there_

_'cause that's what friends are supposed to do oh yeah_

_ooooooh, oooohhh _

_You can count on me 'cause I can count on you."_

There was applause and then they were back to demanding sloppy eating and violence. I sat back down with the guitar in my lap, feeling worse than before. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands.

"And now the real lion show will begin," Olaf announced. There was cheering from the eager crowd. "Look closely at all these freaks," he said, "Observe Hugo's funny back. Think about how silly it is that Colette can bend herself into all sorts of strange positions. Giggle at the absurdity of Kevin's ambidextrous arms and legs. Snicker at Beverly and Elliot, the two-headed freak. And laugh so hard that you can scarcely breathe at Chabo the Wolf Baby."

The crowd roared with laughter while pointing at the freaks.

"Look at Chabo's ridiculous teeth!" a woman with multicolored hair cried. "She looks positively idiotic!"

"I think Kevin is funnier!" her husband with similar hair replied. "I hope he's thrown into the pit. It'll be fun to see him try to defend himself with both hands and feet."

"I hope it's the hook-handed freak!" a woman standing behind the Baudelaires said. "That will make it even more violent!"

"I'm _not_ a freak," the hook-handed man growled impatiently. "I'm an employee of Count Olaf's."

"Oh, sorry," the woman replied. "In that case, I hope it's that man with pimples all over his chin."

"I'm a member of the audience!" the man cried. "I'm not a freak. I just have a few skin problems."

"Then what about that woman in that silly suit? Or the girl in that silly lion costume?" she asked. "Or that guy with only one eyebrow?"

"I'm Count Olaf's girlfriend," Esmé said, "and this is my niece. Our outfits are in, not silly."

"I don't care who's a freak and who isn't," someone else in the crowd said, "I just want to see the lions eat somebody."

"You will," Count Olaf promised. "We're going to have the choosing ceremony right now. The names of all the freaks have been written down on small scraps of paper and placed in the box that these two lovely ladies are holding."

The white-faced women held up the wooden box. Esmé frowned at them. "I don't think they're particularly lovely," she said. Though not too many people heard her over the crowd's cheers.

"I'm going to reach into the box," Olaf said, "draw out one scrap of paper, and read the name of the freak out loud. Then that freak will walk down that wooden plank and jump into the pit, and we'll watch as the lions eat him."

"Or her," Esmé said. She glanced at Madame Lulu and then at the freaks including the Baudelaires. She put down her parasol for a moment so she could make a small, pushing motion as a reminder of her plan. She looked at me then and winked.

"Or her," Count Olaf said, looking oddly at her gesture. "Now, are there any questions before we begin?"

"Why do you get to choose the name?" the pimpled man asked.

"Because this whole thing was my idea," Olaf said.

"I have a question," asked the woman with dyed hair. "Is this legal?"

"Oh, stop spoiling the fun," her husband said, "You wanted to come and watch people get eaten by lions, and so I brought you. If you're going to ask a bunch of complicated questions you can go wait in the car."

"Please continue, Your Countship," the reporter from The Daily Punctilio said.

"I will," Count Olaf said and whipped the lions again. He reached into the wooden box and gave the freaks a cruel smile. His hand moved around for quite some time before drawing out one small piece of paper folded multiple times. The crowd leaned forward to watch. I glanced worriedly at the paper, knowing no matter which name was on the paper, one way or another, Violet and Klaus would be jumping into the pit. I looked around hoping I could sneak away and get the owl figurine. But Esmé had put a hand on my shoulder, her hands ready to pinch me whenever I moved.

Count Olaf raised his hand with the piece of paper up high and gave the audience a huge smile.

"I'm going to open the piece of paper very slowly," he announced, "to increase the suspense."

"How clever!" the reporter said, her gum snapped in excitement. "I can see the headline now: 'Count Olaf Increases Suspense.'"

"I learned how to amaze crowds by working extensively as a famous actor," Count Olaf said. He smiled at the reporter. "Be sure to write that down."

I rolled my eyes. "I will," the reporter said breathlessly, and held her microphone closer to Olaf's mouth.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Count Olaf cried. "I am now unfolding the first fold in the piece of paper!"

"Oh boy!" A few members of the audience cried. "Hooray for the first fold!"

"There are only five folds left," Olaf said. "Only five more folds, and we'll know which freak will be thrown to the lions."

"This is so exciting!" the man with the dyed hair shouted. "I might faint!"

"Just don't faint into the pit," said his wife.

"I am now unfolding the second fold in the piece of paper!" Count Olaf announced. "Now there are only four folds left!"

The lions roared impatiently and the audience cheered while Count Olaf smiled and blew kisses at the audience.

"I unfolded the paper again!" Count Olaf crowed. "There are only three folds left!"

More cheers.

"I am now unfolding the paper again!" he announced yet again. "There are only two folds left!"

The crowd erupted with applause again.

"I am now unfolding the paper for the fifth time!" He cried.

The applause was even louder than before. I knew any moment he would announce the names, Beverly and Elliot and that would be my cue. My cue to do what may be the worst thing I ever do. I glanced at Madame Lulu again and then, back at Esmé who was staring at the freaks. Her eyes sparkled. I glanced at the freaks only to catch Klaus' eye again. We stared at each other and it killed me that I had to do this terrible thing. But it would hurt more to see the Baudelaires die. Still, it felt as though the suspense would end in myself jumping into that pit instead. And in a way I was. Klaus' brown eyes softened and I tried to erase the worry from my eyes. I didn't want Klaus to see that I was afraid.

"I unfolded the paper for the last time," Count Olaf announced. I squeezed my eyes shut. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "Beverly and Elliot, the two-headed freak, will be thrown to the lions today."

I opened my eyes and pushed back all of my worries. There was only one thing to do even if it was wrong. Klaus was still looking at me and gave me a small smile as if he was trying to reassure me without any words.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Violet said glancing briefly at me as well while she spoke, "we are thrilled to be chosen."

I gasped, looking at Violet in utter disbelief. But after a moment, I recognized that look on her face. It was the same look she had when she discovered how to escape from jail in the Village of Fowl Devotees and when she figured out how the lightning device worked. Violet had a plan and if we were lucky, maybe she knew a way out of this.

* * *

><p><strong>The song was Count On Me by Bruno Mars. Isn't it adorable and perfect for Jane and Klaus? :)<strong>

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	9. Dire Circumstances

**New chapter! Enjoy and R&R please!**

**Thanks to all the wonderful reviews! :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Dire Circumstances<strong>

Violet and Klaus stepped toward the plank looking strangely eager.

"Thank you, Count Olaf, for choosing my other head and I as the first victims in the lion show," Klaus said grandly.

"Um, you're welcome," Count Olaf said in reply, taken aback. "Now, jump into the pit so we can watch the lions devour you."

"And do it quickly!" the man with the pimples on his chin cried. "I'd like my carnival visit to be worthwhile!"

"Instead of watching a freak jump into the pit," Violet said, "wouldn't you rather watch someone push a freak into the pit? That would be much more violent."

I frowned. Why were the Baudelaires encouraging more violence?

"Grr!" Sunny growled in agreement.

"That's a good point," one of the white-faced women said thoughtfully.

"Oh yes!" the woman with the dyed hair exclaimed. "I want to see the two-headed freak thrown to the lions!"

"I agree," Esmé said, glaring at the Violet and Klaus and then, at Madame Lulu. "I'd like to see someone thrown into the pit."

The crowd cheered and clapped. I watched as Violet and Klaus took a step toward the plank. I rose from my chair, too anxious to sit now. Madame Lulu was standing near Olaf's henchmen looking worriedly at the Baudelaires.

"This is absolutely thrilling!" exclaimed the reporter eagerly. "I can see the headline now: 'FREAKS PUSHED INTO LION PIT!' Wait until the readers of _The Daily Punctilio_ see that!"

Sunny growled and pointed one of her tiny fingers at Count Olaf.

"What Chabo is trying to convey in her half-wolf language," Klaus said, "is that Count Olaf ought to be the one to push us into the pit. After all, the lion show was his idea."

My eyes widened. What on earth were they doing?

"That's true!" the pimpled man said. "Let's see Olaf throw Beverly and Elliot into the pit!"

Count Olaf scowled at the Baudelaires, and smiled at the crowd. "I am deeply honored to be asked," he said, bowing slightly, "but I'm afraid it would not be appropriate at this time."

"Why not?" the woman with the dyed hair demanded.

Count Olaf hesitated and then made a weird high-pitched sound that was as fake as Sunny's growl. "I'm allergic to cats," he explained. "You see? I'm sneezing already, and I'm not even on the plank." That was supposed to be a sneeze?

"Your allergies didn't bother you when you were whipping the lions," Violet said.

"That's true," the hook-handed man said, "I didn't even know you had allergies, Olaf."

Count Olaf glared at his associates. "Ladies and gentlemen," he started.

"Push the freak in, Olaf!" someone yelled and the others cheered. He frowned but grabbed Klaus' hand and led the two older Baudelaires onto the plank. I stepped forward again, a tiny bit. I inched along so I was closer to Madame Lulu. No one seemed to notice since they were all gawking at the action happening on the plank.

"Throwing people into pits isn't really my job," Count Olaf said nervously to the crowd. "I'm more of an actor." He glanced at me. "You, orphan, you push the freak in."

"That's a good idea," Someone said, "that innocent looking girl dressed as a lion should push the freaks in. It'll be ironic, violent, and sloppy!"

Olaf's bald associate shoved me forward and I walked over to the plank. Olaf stepped aside, giving me a cruel smile.

I laid a hand on where I believed Violet's back was. I looked worriedly at them and around to see Madame Lulu still in the same spot.

"What are you doing?" I whispered to them.

"We need to get the crowd as frantic as possible," Klaus whispered. "to create a diversion."

"So we can escape to the Mortmain Mountains," Violet added, "all we need to do is attach the fanbelt."

I pursed my lips. I didn't like the thought of getting the audience more wound up than they already were. That would only result in utter chaos. But perhaps chaos was what we needed to sneak away without being seen. Perhaps it was the alternate solution I was looking for to help the Baudelaires. It definitely didn't seem like a noble thing to do, but pushing someone into a lion pit was definitely worse.

"Push the freak in little girl!" Someone from the audience shouted, "We want to see violence!"

I raked my brain for something to say to stall the show further, but Esmé interrupted.

"I have a better idea," Esmé said suddenly, in a sweet voice. Her voice was as false as Olaf's sneeze. "Madame Lulu, why don't you walk down that plank and throw your freak to its death?"

"This is not really my job either, please," Madame Lulu protested, looking nervously at the Baudelaires. "I am fortune-teller, not freak-thrower."

"Don't be so modest, Madame Lulu," Count Olaf said with an even nastier smile. "Even though the lion show was my idea and the orphan is innocent-looking, you're the most important person here at the carnival. Take my place on the plank, so we can see someone get pushed to their death."

"What a nice offer!" the reporter cried. "You're a very generous person, Count Olaf!"

"Let's see Madame Lulu throw Beverly and Elliot into the pit!" the pimpled man cried. Everyone cheered again.

Madame Lulu stepped forward, taking my spot on the plank. The crowd seemed to be growing increasingly eager for violence and sloppy eating. The plan was working, but could we keep it up long enough to create the diversion we needed?

"This is so exciting!" the reporter squealed. "Maybe Lulu will fall in, too!"

"Yes," Esmé snarled. "Maybe she will."

"I don't care who falls in!" the pimpled man yelled. He seemed to be growing more frustrated from having to wait so long for sloppy eating and violence. He threw his cold drink into the pit, splashing a few lions that roared in aggravation. "To me, a woman in a turban is just as freaky as a two-headed person. I'm not prejudiced!"

"Me neither!" someone agreed. "I'm just eager for the show to finally begin! I hope Madame Lulu is brave enough to push that freak in!"

"It doesn't matter if she's brave enough," the bald man replied with a chuckle. "Everyone will do what they're expected to do. What other choice do they have?"

Violet and Klaus had reached the end of the plank. The crowd was growing more and more frantic but was it enough? Violet and Klaus exchanged glances. It was then that I could see the tears in their eyes. Desperate, I tried to think of a way to stall.

"Wouldn't you like me to sing another song?" I said, "Before they're thrown in? How about—"

"We're tired of waiting," the man with the pimples complained, "Throw them in already so we can watch the lions eat them."

I glanced in despair at the Baudelaires who returned it. Neither of them knew a way out now.

"Our luck may have run out," Violet said, low enough that only we could hear.

"No." I said, shaking my head fiercely, "No…it hasn't. There has to be another way."

Violet looked at me with such melancholy that tears brimmed in my own eyes. She was right, of course. There was no confusion to allow us to slip away. It didn't seem like there would be. There was only one last thing that could be done. I had no choice. There was no other way.

"I'm sorry," I managed to whisper to the Baudelaires. I'm sorry because I should've done more to prevent them from climbing into the trunk of Olaf's car. I'm sorry because I didn't help them get out of the hinterlands in time. I'm sorry because I let them disguise theirselves as freaks and put theirselves in danger once again. I'm sorry because I let Olaf read my journal—sorry because it was my fault that their lives were at risk again—sorry because soon, I would have to do the terrible thing and push Madame Lulu in. But I was mostly sorry because I let them down…they trusted me and I failed them.

"Stop whispering to your heads!" Count Olaf ordered in a terrible voice. He reached forward, grabbing my hand and yanking me back from the Baudelaires. "Madame Lulu, push them in this instant!"

"We're increasing the suspense!" Klaus cried back desperately. He met my eyes again and again I kept whispering things like 'I'm sorry.'

"The suspense has been increased enough," the man with the pimples replied impatiently. "I'm getting tired of all this stalling!"

"Me, too!" cried the woman with the dyed hair.

"Me, too!" someone else cried who was standing nearby. "Olaf, hit Lulu with the whip! That'll get her to stop stalling!"

I managed to pull my hand out of Olaf's grasp and moved to stand next to Esmé's chair, clutching the back of it.

"Just one moment, please," Madame Lulu said, and took a step towards Violet and Klaus again. The plank teetered and I knew any moment Madame Lulu would give into the pressure of the crowd. She had no choice and I had no choice. I looked at Esmé now, fearfully.

She raised an eyebrow.

Tears still pouring from my eyes I whispered, "I can't let them die. I'd rather do the villainous thing than be responsible for their death."

I thought Esmé would grin in triumph, but instead her face was expressionless. "Remember Jamie," she said, "People do bad things, but they have good reasons for it. Madame Lulu deserves to die after everything she did. Olaf may have found out about your little secret from that notebook of yours, but Madame Lulu still betrayed your friends. She told Olaf the fortune. She sealed the deal. But it's not over yet. You can change it and save your friends lives. Just be brave."

"Enough of this!" the hook-handed man said, stepping forward. "I'll throw them in myself. I guess I'm the only person here brave enough to do it!"

"Oh, no," Hugo said. "I'm brave enough, too, and so are Colette and Kevin."

"Freaks who are brave?" the hook-handed man jeered. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"We are brave," Hugo insisted. "Count Olaf let us prove it to you, and then you can employ us!"

"Employ you?" Count Olaf asked with a frown.

"What a wonderful idea!" Esmé said from beside me, quickly changing her tone to one of excitement.

"Yes," Colette said, "We'd like to find something else to do, and this seems like a wonderful opportunity."

Kevin stepped forward and both his hands were raised. "I know I'm a freak," he said to Olaf, "but I think I can be just as useful as the hook-handed man, or your bald associate."

"What?" the bald man snapped. "A freak like you, as useful as me? Don't be ridiculous!"

"I can be useful," Kevin insisted. "You just watch."

This was it. It was time. Esmé was already nudging me toward the direction of where Madame Lulu stood. But there was one more thing I had to say before I could do this horrible thing. So I looked at the villain, meeting her green eyes, and hoped she would hear me.

"I'm sorry, Esmé," I whispered.

She gave me a funny look. "Why are you apologizing?"

I glanced at where Madame Lulu stood, at the crowd where the freaks were bickering with Olaf's associates about who was more useful. Then, I looked back at Esmé with the answer on my lips.

"Ever since the headmistress at my boarding school told me that my parents were dead…" I trailed off. My eyes were welled with tears again. "Well, I always had a feeling that…maybe I wasn't all alone….that maybe there was someone else out there…perhaps someone who was family. And now…" I paused to take a deep, shaky breath. "I've found it. You might be trying to steal my fortune…but you're my aunt. I'm apologizing to you because I swore to myself that when I found my family whoever they were…it didn't matter. I would be the best person I could be. But now I'm about to break that promise—A promise I made to my parents, to you, to the Baudelaires, to Jacques Snicket, and to myself. And I'm sorry I broke it."

Esmé's face was an expressionless mask for a brief second. Then she was back to looking at me oddly.

"Whatever you say," Esmé muttered, "now go. Hurry up before someone else does it first."

In a way, I wished someone would do it for me, but it wouldn't make a difference who pushed Madame Lulu in the pit. I'd still feel just as guilty. It didn't matter whether Lulu deserved to die or not. No one deserved to be thrown into a pit full of lions. I shook my thoughts away before I could change my mind. Turning towards the pit, I began to steadily inch forward.

"Madame Lulu always says you must always give people what they want," Madame Lulu was saying in a booming voice. "She will do the throwing, please, and she will do it now!"

I had taken a few steps forward, trembling as I did.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hugo said, stepping forward excitedly. "I'll do it!"

I continued to move closer, practically dragging my feet forward. No one took notice of me; they were too absorbed in their arguing. It would almost be too easy.

"You're the one being ridiculous!" Colette said, contorting her body toward Lulu. "I'll do it!"

I took another step, my feet almost reaching the plank now.

"No, I'll do it!" Kevin cried. "With both hands!"

I was nearly there. Madame Lulu was in the perfect position. Just one, small nudge would send her over the edge and give the crowd what they wanted. My stomach churned again and my mind kept screaming at me to stop. But what else could I do?

"I'll do it!" the bald man cried, blocking Kevin's way. "I don't want a freak like you for a coworker!"

Five more steps left.

"I'll do it!" cried the hook-handed man.

I was nearly there. My hands reached out in front of me. It was hard to keep them steady since I couldn't stop shaking. "I'll do it!" cried one of the white-faced women.

Only two more steps to go…my heartbeat was like a drum, pounding rapidly in my ears.

"I'll do it!" cried the other one.

One more step. I took another shaky breath.

"I'll get someone else to do it!" Esmé Squalor cried. I glanced back to see her wink at me.

I closed my eyes, took one final, deep breath, and—

A loud _snap_ made me jump, shudders running up and down my spine. Everyone fell silent instantly. I opened my eyes to see Count Olaf had been the source of it. "_Silence!_" he commanded in a horrifying roar. "All of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves! You're arguing like a bunch of children! I want to see those lions devouring someone this very instant, and whoever has the courage to carry out my orders will get a special reward!"

Everyone's eyes moved towards the plank. It seemed that everyone wanted a special reward. In a split second, the crowd was a massive horde of fanatical, monstrous beings, advanced like a stampede, heading directly for the plank.

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	10. Chaos

**Here's a new chapter! ENJOY! And of course R&R!**

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><p>The mob charged and many jumped at the chance to push someone in the pit. Hugo sprang forward to push Madame Lulu, but bumped into the box that the white-faced women held. The three of them fell in a pile near the edge of the pit. Colette tried to contort her arms to grab Madame Lulu's ankles, but her hands twisted all around one of Esmé's shoes. The hook-handed man tried to grab Violet and Klaus, but his hook got tangled in the wire connected to the reporter's microphone. That woman with the dyed hair tried to push Violet and Klaus in as well, but I grabbed their sleeve and yanked them out of the way. The woman fell into her husband, who accidentally slapped the man with the pimples. They began to argue loudly. More people grouped together to argue as well. They yelled, pushed, and preyed on each other as if they were wild animals. They made the ferocious lions look tame.<p>

We were surrounded by a mass of utter chaos.

Someone else tried to lunge for the Baudelaires who jumped out of the way. A man with a t-shirt that said Caligari Carnival on it accidentally knocked into me while trying to aim a punch at another man. I fell to the ground, losing sight of the Baudelaires and Madame Lulu. I tried to crawl around to avoid being pushed. But that proved to be unsuccessful and I was nearly trampled by a very hefty man. I got to my feet and looked around, my eyes falling to the pit of lions.

As I watched, the lions roared furiously below, snapping at one another. I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. Madame Lulu had said these lions were once noble creatures who could smell smoke and save lives. Now they were starved and beaten. Once they had been tame and loyal yet the brutality had turned them into the beasts that they're made out to be. They would rip and tear at anything or anyone who came into their path—out of rage, out of grief, out of fear, and the animalistic instinct to kill. They had been pushed over the edge and were driven mad by hunger. As I looked back at the mass of humanity preying, yelling, and fighting, I couldn't help but compare them to those lions. They didn't seem too different in the slightest. These people were just as ferocious and violent as those lions. So maybe the animalistic instinct did not just pertain to lions or other ferocious animals. Though humanity seemed far more horrible than those lions. The lions had been turned into such beasts from being tortured. The humans, however, fought over such trivial matters. Seeing this, made me think of my plan to push Madame Lulu into the pit to save the Baudelaires. I hung my head in shame. How could I ever allow myself to turn into a monstrous, violent being? It may have been to save the Baudelaires life but that didn't make it any less cruel. I didn't want to turn into someone who loves sloppy eating and violence. I shuddered. I would just have to be glad that I didn't have to follow through with the plan. Imagine how horrible that would have been!

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and started to make my way through the crowd again when I bumped into someone. I stumbled back and tried to look for a clear path out of here. But whoever it was had grabbed my arm and I was face to face with the bald man, his lips curved into a wicked grin.

"Where do you think you're going?" he said, taking a step toward me. I stumbled backwards again.

"Stay back," I said and was about to move swiftly past him, when I felt myself be pushed onto the ground near the edge of the pit.

The bald man stood over me, laughing cruelly.

"_You're_ just a little menace," he said, "that's what you are."

"You're revolting," I said, rising to my feet and brushing the dirt off my clothes, "that's what _you_ are."

He growled furiously and his hands clutched my arms in a vice grip. He started shaking me, his nails digging into my skin.

"_Ow!_" I said, "Let go! Ouch!"

He stopped shaking me. Just when I thought he would release his hold, he pushed me back farther until I was only a few feet from the edge of the pit. I stared at him, wide eyed with horror.

"Olaf says we're not supposed to kill you," he said, "but you've caused us so much trouble that I think he'll be okay with it. But no one has to know it was I. It could've been anyone who pushed you in or maybe you fell as a result of your own clumsiness." He was gradually inching me nearer to the edge as he spoke, so I was almost dangling. My feet struggled to remain grounded to earth and my heart beat accelerated as I realized at any moment, he could let go and I would plummet to my death. So with all my might, I heaved a kick at his right shin.

"_Ah!_" he cried in pain, dropping me instantly. I stumbled, managing to tilt forward so I didn't fall into the pit. I got up off the ground, my knees stung from the dirt that lingered in the new scrapes, already oozing blood. Except the bald man wasn't backing down easily. He roared and charged at me like a bull, his arms outstretched. I moved to the side just in time, though he still managed to seize my arm. However, he stopped almost too abruptly and lost control.

Time seemed to slow down at that moment, just so I could see every little bit. The bald man tried to steady himself on my arm, however he was far too late. He was beginning to tilt, and I could see he knew what would happen. His hand gripped my wrist tighter and started to pull me down with him. I caught myself as I neared the edge, falling to my knees again. The bald man still had my arm; nevertheless I braced myself as best as I could.

The bald man was falling and the starving lions watched and waited for him to fall into their reach. I know it was probably crazy, but despite everything, I reached for the bald man's other hand. I tried to pull him up before he fell too far. However, I was barely strong enough to keep him dangling; I wasn't strong enough to pull a fully-grown man out of a pit.

And now, I had even more trouble on my hands because the lions spotted the bald man dangling over the pit like a hunk of meat. Some of them were jumping up, trying to reach him. One lion's claw scraped the sole of his foot. He screamed in pain and I struggled even more to pull him up.

"I'll help you," I cried desperately over the lion's furious roars, "just try and pull yourself up. You can still make it."

"I don't need you to help me," the bald man said, wincing in pain. "If I'm going down there, I'll take you with me. Get ready to meet a deadly—"

But the bald man never got a chance to finish his sentence. One of the lions had been watching the bald man as he swayed; it's eyes following his every move like a dog's eyes watch a bone. It had been determining the best approach to getting its prey. Now that lion was done waiting and he had thought it all through. Suddenly, the lion sprung, using its hind legs to give it a powerful boost. It soared up, stretching its body out. His paw stretched out, its claws were blades. The lion was probably about eleven feet high in the air. It was horrifying yet incredulous at the same time. With one swipe of its paw, it snatched the bald man at his chest just as he was about to threaten me. The other paw clasped his back, its claws pierced through and the bald man's beady eyes were wide in utter horror. He was pulled down with such strength that he was forced to let go of my hand.

The lions pounced on him, fighting each other even, to get a piece. What I saw next was so mortifying that I would probably never sleep again.

When the bald man had let go, I had begun to lose my balance, but just as I thought my fate was to be devoured, I was swiftly scooped up and carried away. There was a high pitched, deafening noise and I realized it was myself, screaming. I stopped screaming, though I couldn't halt the tremors that moved up and down my spine. I looked up at my savior and was surprised to meet a pair of green eyes. _Esmé._

She placed me on my feet in a spot far from the pit and waited until I could steady myself before she let go.

"What were _you_ doing?" she hissed, "Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

I shook my head, unable to speak. Images of the bald man's body being ripped apart by those lions tainted my memory and my stomach began to feel queasy. I broke down into dry sobs. Esmé patted my head, her face pinched with obvious discomfort.

"The bald man is dead," I managed to say, "but I didn't mean for it to happen. I tried to save him…"

"Well, it doesn't matter," Esmé said her frown disappearing, "Madame Lulu is dead too and that means the freaks are being recruited. Now, get out of here before you fall in too. Go wait near the freaks' caravan and I'll send the freaks there. We're burning down this carnival and leaving."

My eyes widened. I hated the thought of Olaf setting another fire.

"Why does the carnival need to be burned down?" I asked.

"To destroy any evidence that we were here, of course," Esmé said as if it were obvious, "Now stop asking questions and get out of here. Oh, and you may want to grab your things unless you want them to be burned too. Though I can't imagine why you would want to wear any of the out clothes you usually wear."

Esmé gave me a shove in the right direction and without anywhere else to go, I hurried away from the pit. As I did, I scanned the area for any signs of the Baudelaires. I grabbed my suitcase from the tiny room I had occupied during our stay and took it with me. When I exited the guest caravan, many of the other caravans and tents already had smoke wafting from them. Familiar flickers of orange devoured every inch as hungrily as those lions. I shuddered and stared as the man with the pimples rushed by, shouting in fright about the fire. I felt tears in my eyes again as I watched the world crumbling to pieces by these monstrosities. When did everything get so messed up? Where has all of the good in the world gone? It seemed everything had gone up in smoke.

I wiped my eyes and cleared my thoughts. I needed to find the Baudelaires. Maybe if I got to them before Count Olaf or Esmé, I could warn them. I was about to head for Madame Lulu's tent to look when a thought occurred to me. Before I could find the Baudelaires, something else had to be taken care of first. I changed direction, heading instead for the gift caravan.

It was one of the caravans that hadn't been burned yet and I swung open the door, my eyes scanning the room. I quickly moved from aisle to aisle, searching for it. Finally, I saw the owl figurine, perched on one of the higher shelves. Someone must have moved it. I reached up, my fingers barely brushing the smooth surface. I placed a foot on the lowest shelf to give me a bit of a boost and managed to grab it. I got down and just as I was about to slip it into my bag, I heard a gasp. With a start, I looked up and hid the owl behind my back.

A woman wearing a uniform and a small name badge was gaping at me with eyes like saucers.

"Um…" I said, "I was just, uh."

She didn't speak but her eyes moved to my arms, holding the owl figurine behind my back. With a sigh, I brought it out from behind my back.

"You caught me," I said, "I was taking something, but the carnival is being burned down and I had to grab it before it was too late. It's very special to me because I used to know an owl who looked exactly like him." I paused, waiting for the woman to start reprimanding me and accuse me of being a thief. But she was silent and still as if she were a statue.

"Are…are you alright?" I asked.

Finally, the woman blinked and raised her hand to point one of her fingers at me. "You…" she said so softly that I had to strain my ears to hear, "you're…one of them."

"Excuse me?" I said uncertainly.

"I saw you," she said, "You can do things…I've seen your kind before."

"I don't understand," I said furrowing my eyebrows.

"The branch," she said lowering her hand, "things like that don't just happen. You're one of them."

"You mean there are other people who can…move things without touching them or do other strange magic-like things?" I asked.

The woman nodded and relaxed a bit.

"But I don't mean to do those things," I said, "They just happen."

"I know," the woman said.

There was silence, as neither of us knew what to say.

I wasn't surprised by what the woman said; in a way I always knew that I had magic-like abilities. I just couldn't make sense of them. Though I did wonder if perhaps those abilities could be controlled like how Matilda could control the powers she possessed. Curious, I placed the owl on the shelf once more. I stared at the figurine hard and held out my hands, focusing my energy into making it move. It jostled a bit, making me start and lose focus. I concentrated again and the owl jerked again as if it were attached to an invisible string. I concentrated even more. To my surprise, the owl figurine jostled again and then, hovered in midair. I reached my hands out and concentrated on pulling the owl to me. It floated into my outstretched hands. My eyes widened in amazement. I knew I had strange powers, though I never knew how to control them until now.

"Wow," I said.

I handed the owl to the woman but she refused to take it. "No," she said, "take it with you. But keep it hidden."

"What's so secret about it?" I asked.

The woman opened her mouth to respond when she was cut off by a loud noise. I grimaced when I recognized the terrible laughter of Count Olaf and Esmé Squalor. They seemed to have reached the gift caravan now. The door to the entrance swung open.

Quickly, I stuffed the owl into my suitcase and the woman guided me towards the back of the caravan.

"There's a back entrance," she said, quietly, "now go."

I nodded and rushed to the back where a back door stood. I flung it open and hurried across the grounds of the carnival, searching everywhere for the Baudelaires.

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	11. Goodbye

**Here's the LAST chapter of TCC! I hope you like it!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Good-bye<strong>

As I turned the corner, I saw that the freaks had been summoned now and were waiting by Count Olaf's car. Behind it was the freaks' caravan.

I ran up to the freaks hoping they would know the answer.

"Hi," I said coming to a stop in front of the caravan. They looked in my direction.

"You're here," Hugo said, "Count Olaf and Esmé Squalor are looking for you and the others. You don't happen to know where Beverly, Elliot, and Chabo went, do you?"

I shook my head. "Actually I came to ask you that same question," I said, "well, I'm going to go look for them."

"Hurry back," Colette said, "we don't want to make Count Olaf mad by delaying the trip to the Mortmain Mountains. We only just got hired. We wouldn't want to be fired on the same day."

I nodded and headed in the direction of Madame Lulu's tent, wondering if they were in there. I knew they couldn't have reached the carts of the rollercoaster because as I looked across the carnival, smoke rose from the tracks in large plumes.

I pushed the flap of the tent aside.

"Kla—" I started, "I mean, Elliot…"

They turned, a little startled. Violet was holding her hair ribbon and Klaus had put on his glasses.

"Jane," Violet said, "it's so good to see that you made it out of there okay."

"You too," I said moving over to the hidden archival library where the Baudelaires stood. Klaus held a piece of paper in his hands that looked like a map. "What's that?"

Klaus held it out for me to see. It was a map of the Mortmain Mountains. In the spot that said the Valley of Four Drafts was a small brown stain.

"We believe the stain may be some kind of code," Klaus said, "we think Madame Lulu secretly marked the location of V.F.D.'s headquarters."

"Of course," I said, "that makes perfect sense."

"Well, you and Klaus can search the archival library for anything else useful," Violet said, "and I'll look for materials we can use to replace the fanbelt. Unfortunately, Madame Lulu took it from us when we thought there was no hope of escaping. We lost her among the crowd."

"She's dead," I said sadly. The Baudelaires looked at each other in dismay and I felt a twinge of guilt. "And so is Olaf's bald associate. He tried to push me in there." Shuddering as I recalled that gruesome event that still plagued my mind.

"That's terrible," Klaus said. The Baudelaires shared identical looks of horror, "I'm glad you got out Jane." He reached out and patted my shoulder, the best kind of hug he could manage. But I put down my bag and in an instant, smooshed him in a giant hug, along with Violet, making them stumble a bit. It was worth it though. Only moments ago I thought I would lose them for forever. I was so terribly glad that didn't happen. I couldn't fathom losing either one of the Baudelaires. For a moment, the four of us were in a group hug as Sunny had wrapped her arms around my leg.

I pulled back after a moment. I couldn't rest now. Count Olaf and Esmé were still out there, plotting to get the Baudelaire fortune by any means possible.

"The strangest part," I continued, "was that Esmé saved me."  
>Violet looked at me curiously. "Why would she save you?"<p>

"I don't know," I said, "she hates me. Maybe I'm looking too much into it, though. Perhaps she only saved me because of my fortune."

"Probably," Violet said, "it doesn't sound like Esmé to do such a thing. Afterall, she was the one who wanted Madame Lulu dead."

"Well, we shouldn't waste anymore time," Klaus said, "We can catch up on the way to the headquarters."

I nodded, but then another thought occurred to me.

"Wait," I said, "there's something I have to tell you. Count Olaf—"

"There you are!" a voice called from the entrance to Madame Lulu's tent, and we jumped. I couldn't help groan in aggravation that he just had to show up right when I was about to warn them. Violet hastily put her ribbon back into her pocket and Klaus did the same with his glasses before we turned around. Count Olaf and Esmé Squalor stood in the doorway, their arms wrapped around each other. Esmé held a small bouquet of ivy probably given to her by Olaf, and Count Olaf held a flaming torch, which seemed to only make his eyes glow even brighter.

"I've been looking everywhere for you three," he said, "What are you doing in here?"

Esmé frowned at me. "I thought I told you to go wait with the other freaks," she said looking impatient. Yes. She definitely had saved me out of pure selfish motives.

"I am with the freaks," I said, "Beverly, Elliot, and Chabo are carnival freaks."

Esmé scowled. "We decided to let the freaks join us," she explained looking at the Baudelaires, "even though you weren't very courageous at the lions' pit."

"That's very kind of you to offer," Violet said quickly, "but you don't want cowards like us in your troupe."

"Sure we do," Count Olaf said, with a cruel smile. "We keep losing assistants," he glowered pointedly at me. I uneasily stepped behind Violet and Klaus. Clearly, Esmé told Olaf what happened and he wasn't happy about it, "and it's always good to have a few to spare. I even asked the woman who runs the gift caravan to join us, but she was too worried about her precious figurines to know that opportunity was knocking."

I picked up my bag and heard the slight jostle of the owl figurine. It was of course, the heaviest item in my bag.

"Besides," Esmé said, stroking Olaf's hair, "you don't really have any choice. We're going to burn this carnival down to eliminate all the evidence that we've been here. Most of the tents are already on fire, and the carnival visitors and carnival workers are running for their lives. If you don't join us, where can you possibly go?"

I looked at the Baudelaires who were looking at each other in dismay.

"I guess you're right," Klaus said.

"Of course we're right," Esmé said, "Now get out of here and help us pack the trunk. And take Jamie with you."

"Wait a minute," Count Olaf said, and walked over to the table. "What's this?" he demanded. "It looks like it's a map."

"It is a map," Klaus admitted, sighing. "A map of the Mortmain Mountains."

"The Mortmain Mountains?" Count Olaf said, examining the map eagerly. "Why, that's where we're heading! Lulu said that if there was a parent alive, they'd be hiding up there! Does the map show any headquarters on it?"

"I think these black rectangles indicate headquarters," Esmé said, peering over Olaf's shoulder. "I'm pretty good at reading maps."

"No, they represent campgrounds," Olaf said, looking at the key. Then his face broke into a smile. "Wait a minute," he said, and pointed to the brown stain. "I haven't seen one of these in a long time. He rubbed his scraggly chin.

"A small brown stain?" Esmé asked. "You saw that this morning."

"This is a coded stain," Count Olaf explained. "I was taught to use this on maps when I was a little boy. It's to mark a secret location without anyone else noticing."

"Except a smashing genius," Esmé said. I rolled my eyes. "I guess we're heading for the Valley of Four Drafts."

"V.F.D.," Count Olaf said, and giggled. "That's appropriate. Well, let's go. Is there anything else useful in here?"

The Baudelaires and I glanced over at the table briefly. I shuddered to think what Olaf would do if he found that archival library, filled with so many secrets.

"No," Klaus said finally. "Nothing else useful."

Count Olaf looked displeased and knelt down so his face was right in front of Klaus's. "I think you're lying to me," he said, and waved the lit torch in Klaus's face.

I stepped closer to Klaus, not liking Olaf putting that torch so close to Klaus's face.

"My other head is telling the truth," Violet said.

"Then what is that food doing there?" Olaf demanded, pointing a bony finger at the cardboard box. "Don't you think food would be useful for a long journey?"

"Grr!" Sunny growled as we all sighed in relief.

"Chabo compliments you on your cleverness," Klaus said, "and so do we. We hadn't noticed that box."

"I'm not included in that by the way," I said.

Olaf scowled at me again. "That's why I'm the boss," he said, "because I'm smart and I have good eyesight." He laughed nastily, and thrust the torch into Klaus's hand. "Now then," he said, "I want you to light this tent on fire, and then bring the box of food over to the car. Chabo, come with me. I'm sure I'll find something for you to sink your teeth into. You come too, Blondie."

"Grr," Sunny said doubtfully.

"Chabo would prefer to stay with us," Violet said.

"I second that," I said, "I'd prefer to stay with the freaks too."

"I couldn't care less what either of you would prefer," Olaf snarled and picked up Sunny. With his free hand, he grabbed me by my hair and yanked me away from the elder Baudelaires. Esmé took over, grabbing my arm and gripping it tighter than necessary. "Now get busy."

Olaf exited still carrying Sunny and Esmé dragging me out after her. I glanced worriedly behind me at Madame Lulu's tent where Violet and Klaus remained with the flaming torch.

A few people ran by in a panic about the fire. Someone shouted something about it being the work of the 'notorious' Baudelaires. I looked up at Sunny who appeared to be terrified.

When we rounded the corner, all of Olaf's associates were waiting by the car.

"How is everyone going to fit into the car?" Esmé asked. "I'm not sharing a seat with any of those freaks."

"We'll attach the freak caravan to the back of the car," Olaf said, "Beverly and Elliot can ride in there."

"Along with Chabo and I," I said.

Olaf's eyes grew very shiny. "There's enough room for you _and _Chabo," he said, "in the car."

I frowned, but lowered my gaze to the ground.

"Chabo," Olaf said, "make yourself useful and gnaw my whip down. We'll use it as a rope to connect the caravan to the car."

Olaf handed Sunny his whip and as quick as she could, she bit down on the whip until it was much shorter and rough around the edges.

"Good," Olaf said as his associates began to get into the car.

"Let me carry Chabo," I said, hoping to relieve Sunny from having to be carried around by Olaf.

"Esmé will take Chabo," Olaf said as he passed Chabo to Esmé. "It'll have to sit on your lap."

Esmé frowned, holding Chabo at arms length as if she were a bag of smelly garbage.

"I'll manage Blondie from here," he said giving me a nasty smile and grabbing me by the hair again. I was dragged over to the car and then he stopped to look over his shoulder.

"What's taking the two-headed freak so long?" Olaf growled, "I want to get to our destination before the sun sets," he looked down at me, "You didn't tell them our secret, did you?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. He frowned but didn't say anymore.

"Hurry up, you two-headed freak!" Olaf called. "If you don't come here right this minute, we're leaving without you!"

"Grr!" Sunny growled frantically, speaking for both of us.

"Get in the car Esmé," Olaf ordered and started dragging me by my hair to the backseat. The door opened and he was about to shove me in but I braced myself against the side of the car.

"I'm not getting in until Beverly and Elliot are safely in the freaks caravan," I said just as Violet and Klaus appeared.

"Fine," Olaf said but a sneer lingered in his voice, "you can say your goodbyes to the brats but make it quick. And one word about my plan, and I'll leave them behind. There's no way they'll survive out in the hinterlands in all this smoke. They'll suffocate and die, which isn't a problem for me."

He shoved me in the direction of Violet and Klaus.

"Hey," I said, forcing a smile to try and reassure them.

"Where's Chabo?" Violet asked.

I bit my lip. "I'm sorry," I said, "she's in the front seat on Esmé's lap. I have to ride in the car too."

"Where are we going to be?" Klaus asked.

"In there," Olaf said, coming up behind me. Olaf pointed his whip at the freaks caravan. "We're going to attach it to the automobile and pull you along with us."

"Isn't there room in the car?" Violet asked nervously.

"Don't be ridiculous," the hook-handed man, who was still waiting outside the car, said with a sneer. "It's too crowded. Good thing Colette is a contortionist, so she can curl into a ball at our feet."

"Chabo already gnawed my whip down so it could be used as a connecting rope," Count Olaf said, "I'll just tie the caravan to the car with a double slipknot and then we'll ride off into the sunset."

"Excuse me," Violet said, "but I know a knot called the Devil's Tongue that I think will hold better."

"And if I remember the map correctly," Klaus said, "we should ride east until we find Stricken Stream, so we should drive that way, away from the sunset."

"Yes, yes, yes," Count Olaf said quickly. "That's what I meant. Tie it yourself if you want. I'll go start the engine." He tossed the rope to Klaus and the hook-handed man took out a pair of walkie-talkies from the trunk. "Take one of these," he said and placed one in Violet's hand, "so we can contact you if we need to tell you something."

"Hurry up!" he snapped, taking the other walkie-talkie. "The air is filling with smoke."

Olaf pushed me towards the car.

"Wait," I said and even though I would probably get in trouble, I hurried back over to Violet and Klaus, smooshing them in another big hug.

"Stay out of trouble," Klaus said as he wrapped his arm around me.

"You too," I replied, trying to hide just how scared I was. "I'll see you when we get out."

"Alright," Olaf growled, grabbing my hair again to yank me away from them. "You've had plenty of time to say goodbye to the freak. Now get in the car!"

I managed to give Violet and Klaus a small wave before I was stuffed into the backseat.

I ended up having to squeeze in between Hugo and one of the white-faced women. Sunny was looking back at me with worried eyes. I would've said something to calm her nerves but Olaf had gotten into the driver's seat. The car lurched forward and we headed east, away from the sunset as Klaus had directed.

Even though I knew Violet and Klaus were in the caravan attached to the car, I couldn't stop worrying. As Olaf drove away from Rarely Ridden road and the car began to go up the mountain, it felt like the first and only time I got to ride on a rollercoaster. Carmelita and her friends had told stories the night before about people who died on rollercoasters. The only reason I went on was because I didn't want to have to wait all by myself with the teacher. So I climbed into the car, choosing to sit in the back of the rollercoaster.

The coaster had a tunnel surrounding multiple parts so I didn't realize that this wasn't the usual rollercoaster that went forward. That was until Carmelita decided to lean back and tell me that the coaster would take us backwards. It was in fact a 'slingshot' type of rollercoaster. I remember that uneasy feeling that had bubbled up in my chest and the knot in my stomach that I felt as the roller coaster slowly ascended the hill into a tunnel and stopped, making us wait impatiently for the drop. Just as I had thought something broke, I had the breath knocked out of me and my stomach felt as though it had dropped onto the ground below.

As I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, the uneasy feeling I had acquired while I waited for the rollercoaster to drop returned. I couldn't stop myself from biting my nails and my breath came out in quick bursts.

"Excuse me, boss," Hugo said, breaking the silence. "Where exactly are we headed?"

"We're going to the Valley of Four Drafts," Esmé answered, "That's in the Mortmain Mountains. The map said it was a secret headquarters for V.F.D. where we think the Baudelaire parents are hiding."

"Speaking of the Baudelaires," Olaf said, his eyes shining ever so brightly as he took his eyes off the road to look at Sunny, "I've recently been told that _you_ are a Baudelaire!" In one swift motion, Olaf swiped away the beard that Sunny had wrapped around her as apart of her disguise. Sunny's eyes grew wide and she began to shake in fear. I stared in frozen, mute horror. Olaf's associates gasped in surprise including the freaks.

"Are you talking about the same Baudelaires who murdered Count Omar?" Colette asked from her spot on the floor.

"They didn't _murder_ Count Omar," I said, "they were framed."

"Yes," Olaf answered as if I hadn't just spoken, "they lied to us all. They put on sneaky disguises and fooled us all into thinking they were carnival freaks. I'm much too brilliant to fall for that though." Olaf turned to Sunny giving her a nasty smile. "And now I've tricked you and soon you're going to make me _very_ rich."

"Don't hurt her!" I cried, trying to sound brave.

"Don't worry about bucktooth," Olaf said, "you're the lucky ones who get to spend the rest of their puny lives with me. It's the other two you should worry about."

"Violet and Klaus are right behind us," I said, "they're attached to the car."

"Not for long," Olaf said with a cruel laugh. "Say good-bye to Violet and your bookworm boyfriend." He looked at his associates. "Why don't you freaks make yourselves useful and cut the rope attaching the caravan to us? Here's a knife." He took out a large knife and passed it to Kevin. "Prove yourselves worthy enough to be my henchmen."

Panic rose in my throat and it was as if I were suffocating. No, this couldn't be happening.

"I prefer the term henchpeople," Colette said.

"I don't care what you prefer," Olaf growled. "Just cut that rope!"

"_What?_" I cried. The feeling I got when the rollercoaster finally dropped came back; as if the ground had been pulled out from under me. It took me a moment to confirm that this wasn't just a nightmare. "_No!_"

I lunged across the laps of the freaks and blocked the door on their side. But as soon as I did, Olaf grabbed my hair and yanked me back.

"Ow," I spat, "Let go!"

"Hold the orphan down," he ordered, "I don't want her interfering with my plans again."

"No!" I cried again. A pair of hands, belonging to the white-faced women had grabbed me just as Olaf finished speaking. They pulled me back, away from the door where the freaks began to form a sort of human chain out the window. Kevin had the knife in his hands and I knew with his two equally strong hands, the job would be almost too easy. The white-faced women pinned me to the seat and I struggled, trying to break free in desperation. Klaus and Violet were in terrible danger and I had to do something.

Meanwhile, Olaf had grabbed the walkie-talkie and pressed the button.

"Are you there?" he spoke into it. "Press the red button and speak to me!"

"We're here," Violet replied.

"_Violet! Klaus!"_ I screamed as a hand covered my mouth so all that came out was a muffled shriek. In Esmé's lap, Sunny was crying.

"Good," Count Olaf replied, "because I wanted to tell you that I learned something from Madame Lulu."

"What did you learn?" I heard Klaus asked as I tried to scream. It came out muffled again and hurt my throat.

I freed one of my arms and aimed a punch at one of the white-faced woman as hard as I could. My fist only met an arm but I still managed to slip free.

"Violet! _Klaus!"_ I shrieked lurching forward so they would hear me.

With his free hand, Olaf shoved me back and once again I was struggling against the tight grip of the white-faced women. The others began to laugh cruelly and Sunny still whimpered in despair.

The hook-handed man took the pleasure of waving his hook in my face and threatening to use it to hurt me again if I dared break free.

"I learned that you are the Baudelaires!" Count Olaf cried in triumph. "I learned that you three brats followed me here and tricked me with sneaky disguises. But I'm too clever for you!"

Olaf began to laugh. I bit down as hard as I could on one of the white-faced women's thumb.

"Ow!" she yelped, "She bit me!"

But she backed off in time for me to break free of the other one by elbowing her in the stomach.

"Klaus! _Klaus!"_ I screamed as the hook-handed man tried to slash me with his hook. I covered my face with my hands and dodged the hook so it punctured the seat instead. I tried to grab Hugo's coat and pull the freaks back in the car. I knew despite my efforts, there was no real way out of this. I was in a car full of villains who hopelessly outnumbered me. There was no real way of escape and no real way to stop them from doing this without help. I thought about trying to use my 'powers' except, they wouldn't have that great of an effect either. Unless my powers could stop the caravan from rolling Violet and Klaus down the hill, they were pretty much useless.

"Klaus!" I screamed again when I was grabbed once more. Now they pinned both my arms and legs while the hook-handed man brought his hook scarily close to my arm where there was still a tiny scar from the last time.

"Jane!" Klaus called back. "Don't hurt them! Don't you dare hurt them!"

"Hurt _them_?" Count Olaf growled. "Why, I wouldn't dream of hurting either one of them! After all, I need one Baudelaire and one Murray orphan to steal both fortunes. First I'm going to make sure both of your parents are dead, and then I'm going to use Sunny and Jamie to become very, very, _very_ rich! No, don't worry about the buck-toothed twerp and Blondie—not yet. If I were you, I'd worry about yourselves! Say bye-bye to your sister and your dear friend, Baudebrats!"

They erupted into more laughter and Olaf tossed the walkie-talkie to the side.

"No! No! No!" I screamed. A cloth was stuck in my mouth so I couldn't scream again. This time the white-faced women didn't risk silencing me with their hands. I continued to struggle and scream even though it was still a useless effort.

There was a snap and it was like someone was tearing out my heart. I knew what that sound was and all I could think about was Violet and Klaus rolling down the mountain to their death.

"Klaus!" I screamed again and struggled. The white-faced women weren't gripping me as tightly anymore and even allowed me to sit up. I dove forward and reached for the walkie-talkie, pressing the red button. "Klaus! Klaus! I need to tell you! Klaus I lo—"

But I never got the chance. Before I could blurt out my confession, Olaf snatched the walkie-talkie out of my hands and with a cruel sneer tossed it out the window. His troupe began to laugh as the freaks climbed back in the car.

"No!" I shrieked I turned to peer out the back window. Horrorstruck, I watched as the caravan fell back as quickly as that rollercoaster had. But this wasn't an amusement park ride. There was no one to stop the caravan from falling over the edge of the mountain.

I gasped, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. _No_. No, this couldn't be happening. They couldn't die. They just couldn't. Klaus wouldn't do that to me. He wouldn't leave me all alone in this terrible world.

But of course it was true. Olaf's associates had severed the rope connecting the caravan to the car and now Violet and Klaus were falling.

And the worst part was that I knew it was my fault. Olaf may have tricked the Baudelaires, the freaks may have participated in severing the rope that connected Violet and Klaus to us, but I knew when it came down to it, that if it weren't for me, this never would have happened. Count Olaf would never have known that the Baudelaires were disguised as freaks and they would've been able to attach the fanbelt. If it weren't for me, they would've gotten in the coaster cars and began their journey up to the Valley of Four Drafts. I was the one to blame. I murdered them with my own betrayal.

This realization pushed past my denial and I took a deep shuddering breath, bursting into sobs. I didn't care what any of these villains thought as I heaved and heaved, each time hurt more and more. It was my worst nightmare come true. I remembered that time when Olaf caught me sneaking in his tower. How he'd burned my hair and belongings. And then threw me into that dark room before promising to kill two Baudelaires. Then, after the last Baudelaire was gone, I would be left behind. I would be spare so I could be all alone and always unhappy. Klaus, the one person I cared about more than any one in the world, was slowly slipping away from me…forever. Never again to listen to him read me his favorite books. Never again to listen to him sing my favorite songs with me. Never to know the truth about what he meant to me…

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><p><strong>Although this ended on a bad note, i'm excited that it's TSS next! <strong>

**Review!**

**I'll update soon!**


	12. Disaster

**Here's a new chapter!**

**And summary for TSS:**

**The Baudelaires and Jane face more misfortune as they find themselves separated. With Sunny and Jane in Olaf's clutches and Violet and Klaus plummeting to their death in a caravan, could anything get worse? With the arrival of several villains and a group of Snow Scouts will the children be able to unravel the mystery that surrounds them? Will they at last discover the whereabouts of the survivor of the Baudelaire fire? Will Violet and Klaus rescue Sunny and Jane before it's too late?**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Disaster<strong>

The car jerked and rolled over another bump in the path. The car traveled over the rocky earth as tears streamed down my face. All I could think about was the Baudelaires growing farther and farther away to fall off the mountain. Only Sunny wasn't with them. Sunny, instead, was in the front seat on Esmé's lap. The beard she had wrapped around herself as part of her disguise as Chabo had been tossed in the backseat. Violet and Klaus were probably still in their disguise as Beverly and Elliot, the two-headed freak. Except it was useless now that Olaf had seen through their disguises and cut the rope that attached them to the car. Now they were hurtling down the mountain to meet their doom. I couldn't believe it was happening. Olaf finally succeeded and now we were all doomed. But I knew that the person to blame for everything was myself. Count Olaf had stolen my notebook, which contained every detail of the Baudelaires' plan to disguise theirselves as carnival freaks. They were nearly thrown into a pit full of lions but they used mob psychology to escape. But it was no use because now they were still going to meet a gruesome end. I couldn't stand knowing that I was the reason. All my life I've been searching for people like the Baudelaires who cared about me. Now I finally found what I had been missing and I blew it.

I burst into sobs again, and wept brokenly into my hands.

"I wish the orphans would stop their irritating crying," Count Olaf said, furrowing his one eyebrow, "Nothing spoils a nice car trip like whiny children."

"I'm pinching the baby brat as often as I can," Esmé Squalor said, pinching Sunny again, "but she still won't shut up. If I could reach back there, I would try pinching Jamie too."

"Listen, toothy," Olaf said taking his eyes off the road to glare at Sunny. "If you don't stop crying, I'll give you something to cry about. That goes for you too, Blondie."

Sunny gave a little whimper. I wiped my eyes and glared out the window. The filthy stream flowed down the mountain in the opposite direction. I had to squint against the glare of the setting sun. Seeing it made me think of Klaus and how we had spent that evening together at Heimlich Hospital. Then later we watched the sunrise while Klaus recited that poem. By Robert Frost about how nothing gold can stay. I remembered how the poem went and recited it to myself in a hushed whisper:

_"Nature's first green is gold, _

_Her hardest hue to hold._

_Her early leaf's a flower;_

_But only so an hour._

_Then leaf subsides to leaf._

_So Eden sank to grief,_

_So dawn goes down to day._

_Nothing gold can stay."_

A tear escaped my eye and rolled down my cheek. It made me terribly sad to think that I might never enjoy watching another sunrise with Klaus again. The first time in my life, something wonderful happens and then it's snatched away from me. I glanced at Sunny who gazed gloomily out of her window. I wished there were something I could do to cheer her up.

"What are you muttering about?" the hook-handed man sneered, "It's almost as annoying as your whining."

I told myself to ignore him and turned back to the filthy window.

"You're just upset because your poor boyfriend is crushed underneath that caravan somewhere," Olaf said with another laugh.

"Klaus isn't my boyfriend," I said, my voice breaking at the end. I couldn't help the tears that fell from my eyes. I never got the chance to tell him how I felt. Though I wasn't really certain of _how_ I felt. I liked Klaus, of course. But I wasn't too sure about much else. Surely, I wasn't in _love_ with Klaus. It was just a crush…a really big crush. But somehow that made losing Klaus hurt even more.

"You mean he _wasn't_," Olaf corrected, "Thanks to you, I learned everything I needed to know about their plan to fool me with disguises. Your notebook has finally become quite useful and I intend to read every bit until I know all of your secrets."

"You know all of my secrets," I said, "even the reason why I was forced to leave my boarding school. There's nothing left for you to know."

"We'll see about that," Olaf said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out my notebook. "Look at this, it's from when you escaped from my clutches to find the Baudelaires: '_Klaus and I shivered, moving closer together. Our hands brushed, but instead of pulling it away like I normally would've, I closed my hand around his. We didn't close our eyes, we just stared at each other again. I wondered what he was thinking._'" Olaf smirked and his troupe laughed mockingly.

"That's private," I said, trying not to cry as I recalled that night we spent in the unfinished half of Heimlich Hospital.

"Not anymore," Count Olaf said and flipped the pages back to another spot. "And this is from when the Baudebrats tried to rescue you and the Quagmires from the In Auction:_ 'I stretched out my hand and met his. His hand was warm, like the color of his eyes, which I was now lost in. And at his touch, I didn't need any further explanations because I knew he was here. I was safe. From Olaf, from Esmé, from everyone who'd ever tried to hurt me. Now that I was holding the hand of my best friend.'"_

They started to laugh once more and I sank into my seat, glowering at the floor. Now all of these terrible villains knew all that I wanted to keep hidden.  
>"How touching!" Olaf said mockingly, "And now your poor little boyfriend has perished along with his sister. Neither of you are 'safe' now. So now you're truly alone. Well, except for the baby brat, of course."<p>

He gave me a nasty smile. I kept staring at the floor bitterly and then gazed out the window again.

Olaf reading my notebook aloud only reminded me of everything that I'd lost and that it was my entire fault. I hated myself for what I did. I had sworn to myself that I'd try to protect the Baudelaires from Count Olaf. That was why I went willing into his clutches in the first place. Except I failed them...This time there was no way to bring them back. They were dead. The only family that I ever considered my own was gone. Just like that. Now it was only Sunny and I.

"No pinch," I heard Sunny say to Esmé.

"When she's not crying," Esmé said, continuing on the earlier subject, "the baby talks in some foreign language. I can't understand a thing she's saying."

"Kidnapped children are never any fun," the hook-handed man said and then glanced in my direction with a scowl. "For one thing, Blondie has always caused us so much trouble and foiled all our plans. And remember when we had the Quagmires in our clutches, boss? They did nothing but complain. They complained when we put them in a cage. They complained when we locked Blondie in that bedroom. They complained when we trapped them inside a fountain. Complain, complain, complain—I was so sick of them I was almost glad when they escaped from our clutches."

"Glad?" Count Olaf said with a snarl. "We worked hard to steal the Quagmire fortune, and we didn't get a single sapphire. That was a real waste of time." Olaf turned to glare at me. Apparently, I was to blame for all of Olaf's failed plans.

"Don't blame yourself, Olaf," one of the white-faced women said, "Everybody makes mistakes."

"I don't blame myself," Olaf said, "It was Blondie's fault, of course. I knew I should've left you behind." He glared at me again. "But it won't happen this time." He said as more of a warning to me. "With the two orphans squashed someplace underneath a crashed caravan, the baby orphan on your lap, and Blondie in the backseat, the Baudelaire fortune and the Murray fortune are mine."

"You mean _ours_," Esmé corrected.

Olaf gave her one of his fake smiles. "Of course, _darling_." Then, he went on. "And once we reach the Valley of Four Drafts and find the headquarters, all our worries will be over."

"Why?" Hugo asked.

"Yes, please explain," Kevin said. "Remember, boss, we're new to the troupe, so we don't always know what's going on."

"I remember when I first joined Olaf's troupe," the other white-faced woman said, "I'd never even heard of the Snicket file."

"Working for me is a hands-on learning experience," Olaf said, "You can't rely on me to explain everything to you. I'm a very busy man."

"I'll explain it, boss," the hook-handed man said, "Count Olaf, like any good businessman, has committed a wide variety of crimes."

"But these stupid volunteers have gathered all sorts of evidence and filed it away," Esmé said, "I tried to explain that crime is very in right now, but apparently they weren't interested."

Sunny and I exchanged glances. Neither of us had the patience to listen to another one of Esmé's nonsense about what was considered in and what was out. I was still wearing the lion outfit Esmé forced me to wear for the lion show.

"We need to destroy those files, or Count Olaf could be arrested," the hook-handed man said. "We have reason to believe that some of the files are at V.F.D. headquarters."

"What does V.F.D. stand for?" Colette asked from her spot on the floor that had formerly belonged to me.

"That's top-secret information!" Olaf growled and Sunny looked disappointed. I reminded myself to tell Sunny later what it stood for. It was about time she knew. Even if it was too late for Violet and Klaus… "I used to be a member of the organization myself. But then again so were Esmé and Abigail. But soon I found it more fun to be an individual practitioner." He exchanged a glance with Esmé and something was hinted in both of their eyes.

"What does that mean?" the hook-handed man asked.

"It means a life of crime," Esmé replied, "It's very in right now."

"Wrong def." Sunny said, speaking what was on my mind too. I wasn't as good of a researcher as Klaus had been, but I did know what individual practitioner meant. It meant 'someone who works alone' and it has no relation to 'a life of crime'.

"There you go, babbling away," Esmé said, "This is why I never want to have children. Except as servants, of course."

"She means that the definition of individual practitioner was incorrect," I said, "and I agree. The phrase has nothing to do with pursuing a life of crime."

"Quiet," Olaf said, "you're starting to sound like that bookworm."

I sighed. The sun was lower in the sky now and soon it would be dusk.

"Who's Abigail?" Hugo asked.

"She was—" The hook-handed man began but Olaf interrupted him.

"She was the blonde brat's mother before her tragic death."

"You mean murder," I muttered and then clamped my mouth shut. I hadn't meant to say it aloud.

"Murder?" Olaf repeated turning to glare at me, "Who ever said she was murdered? I thought she perished in a fire."

I frowned to myself. I wasn't sure what to believe. It was all so confusing. The file didn't explain anything having to do with my parents' death. On one hand, it said my mother perished in a fire, however; somehow I ended up at a boarding school some distance away from the place where the fire occurred. Something didn't add up and nothing seemed to be able to fill all the holes. I knew that my father was murdered and that probably meant that the fire might not have been an accident. I knew some of what happened but I didn't understand why. Why would someone go to such great lengths to harm my parents? What was so dangerous that my parents tried to protect me from?

"Let's not dwell on the past," Esmé said quickly, "It's spoiling our success."

"You're right." Olaf said and then turned his attention back to the road. "This journey is easier than I thought," Olaf said, changing the subject, "The map says we just have to pass a few more caves."

"Is there an in hotel near the headquarters?" Esmé asked.

"I'm afraid not, sweetheart," the villain replied, "but I have two tents in the trunk of the car. We'll be camping on Mount Fraught, the summit of the Mortmain Mountains."

"The summit?' Esmé said, "It'll be cold at the highest peak."

"It's true," Olaf admitted, "but False Spring is on its way, so before long it'll be a bit warmer."

"But what about tonight?" Esmé Squalor said, "It is definitely _not_ in for me to set up tents in the freezing cold."

Count Olaf looked at Esmé and began to laugh nastily. "Don't be silly," the villain said finally. "_You're_ not going to set up the tents, Esmé. You're going to stay nice and toasty in the car. The bucktoothed baby and Blondie will set up the tents for us."

The entire troupe began to laugh now. Sunny looked away towards her window and I knew she was crying again. I wished Sunny could ride back here with me so I could comfort her, rather than on Esmé's lap. I felt tears rolling down my cheeks again as I thought about poor Violet and Klaus who were probably dead somewhere. Oh, Klaus…It hurt my heart to think something terrible happened to him. Seeing Sunny crying and the villain's cruel laughter further reminded me that this was all my doing.

"How long will we stay on Mount Fraught?" Hugo asked.

"Until I say so, of course," Count Olaf replied.

"You'll soon find out that much of this job requires a lot of waiting around," the hook-handed said, "I usually keep something around to help pass the time, like a deck of cards or a large rock."

"It can be dull," one of the white-faced women confessed, "and it can be dangerous. We received concussions once." The white-faced glanced at me and glowered, "and several of our comrades have recently suffered terrible fates."

"It was worth it," Count Olaf said nonchalantly. "Sometimes a few people need to die in fires or get eaten by lions, if it's all for the greater good. Besides, baldy nearly lost me a fortune." Olaf glanced at me. "I'm almost glad you pushed him in."

"I didn't push him in there," I said, shocked that I would be accused of such a horrible thing. "He tried to push me in and I dodged it, naturally. I tried to help him."

Olaf laughed. "You tried to help baldy?" Olaf said, "And how do you expect me to believe that? Weren't you also responsible for arson?"

Olaf's troupe gasped, obviously not expecting that.

"You know that's not true," I said, "Carmelita set that fire to try and kill me. How could I have set a fire when I was locked inside a shed? In fact, if you read my notebook, the entire story is there. The _truth_."

Olaf frowned and didn't look convinced. But he went on. "Some people have to die if it's all for the greater good."

"What's the greater good?" Colette asked.

"Money!" Esmé exclaimed. "Money, revenge, and personal satisfaction, and we're going to get all of those things out of this whimpering baby on my lap and my niece in the backseat! Once we have our hands on the Baudelaire and Murray fortune, we'll have enough money to live a life of luxury and plan several more treacherous schemes!"

They all cheered as Count Olaf gave Sunny and I a filthy grin. Nothing more was said as the car sped up a hill and came to a stop as the sun sank below the horizon with finality.

"We're here at last," Count Olaf said and then tossed the car keys to me. "You two get out. Unload everything from the trunk and set up the tents."

"And bring us a bag of potato chips," Esmé said, "So we'll have something to eat while we wait."

Esmé opened the passenger door and placed Sunny outside on the ground. The white-faced women shoved me out the back door and I stepped out onto the snowy ground.

It was so cold that the tears in my eyes froze in a matter of seconds. I wrapped my arms around myself trying to keep warm. Suddenly, I was a little glad that this lion outfit had fur lining the cuffs. I hurried over to Sunny who shivered uncontrollably. Sunny rose to her feet.

"What should we do?" I said as we walked to the back of the car, "Should we try to escape while Olaf is waiting in the car? I've done it many times before so it shouldn't be too hard. Besides, we'll have a good head start. We have the car keys."

For a moment, Sunny looked as though she agreed but then she shook her head.

"Not safe," she managed, trying her best to use words that I would understand better. I knew by that she meant something along the lines of, "it's not safe for the two of us to wander off by ourselves. We don't have any food, water, and there are bears."

I frowned, but nodded. "You're right," I said, gloomily, "I just hate the thought of staying in Olaf's clutches."

Sunny leaned forward and bit my hand gently.

"Thanks," I said.

We were silent as we gazed around the mountain. The summit was a small, flat square with four edges. Three of the four edges displayed the misty peaks of the snowy mountains. The black stream wound its way along the mountains and I could see the bumpy trail we had traveled along to get here.

"Slopa," Sunny said pointing to the fourth edge of the peak. By that she meant, "That must be the source of the Stricken Stream." I followed her gaze, peering at the glittering white strip. Sunny was right, it must be a waterfall during the warmer seasons.

"Dicol," Sunny said. I knew she was wondering why the frozen waterfall wasn't as dark as the stream.

"Maybe the stream has been polluted," I said, "Those poor fish are probably dying." I felt sorry for those poor fish. It wasn't fair that they had to suffer.

Sunny noticed a few tears slide down my cheeks again and patted my hand gently. "I don't know why it makes me so upset," I said, "I guess it's because I know how they feel. But then again, so do you and you're not blubbering like a baby…no offense."

There was an abrupt blast from Olaf's horn that made us both jump and remember our chore. I unlocked the trunk and it flung open. Sunny grabbed the bag of potato chips and we brought it back to the car.

"That took a while," Olaf said, "now go set up the tents, one for Esmé and me and one for my troupe, so we can get some sleep."

"Where are the orphans going to stay?" the hook-handed man said, "I don't want either one of them in my tent. I don't like Blondie. And I hear that babies can creep up and steal your breath while your sleeping."

It was odd to see a villain such as the hook-handed man look so terrified about something so irrational. Afterall, he had hooks for hands. Clearly, he didn't realize that it wasn't possible for a baby to 'steal' your breath.

"Well, they're certainly not sleeping with me," Esmé said. "It's not in to have a baby in your tent. Also, I just heard that having an orphaned niece is out unless you're trying to steal the orphan's inheritance, of course."

"Blondie will have to stay in the tent with you," Olaf said to the hook-handed man who frowned. "For one thing, I don't trust her and someone needs to watch her at all times. As for the baby, she isn't going to sleep in any tent," Olaf decided, "There's a large covered casserole dish in the trunk. The baby can sleep in there."

"A casserole dish?" I said incredulously, "She'll freeze to death."

"I hate to agree with my unfashionable niece," Esmé said, "but will the baby brat be safe in the casserole dish? Remember, Olaf honey, if she dies then we can't get our hands on the fortune."

"There are a few holes in the top so she can breathe," Count Olaf said, "and the cover will protect her from freezing to death and the snow gnats."

"Snow gnats?" Hugo asked.

"Snow gnats are well-organized, ill-tempered insects," Count Olaf explained, "who live in cold mountain areas and enjoy stinging people for no reason whatsoever. I've always been fond of them."

"Nonat," Sunny said, which meant, "I didn't notice any such insects outside."

However, none of Olaf's troupe paid much attention.

"Won't she run away if no one's watching her?" Kevin asked.

"She wouldn't dare," Olaf said and glared at me, "that's why I'm keeping Blondie under strict surveillance. She always has a knack for escaping. And even if they tried to survive on their own, we would know where they went. That's why we're staying at the summit. We'll know if the brats escape, or if anyone's coming after us, because we can see everyone for miles and miles."

"Eureka," Sunny said meaning "I've just realized something."

"Stop your babbling and get busy, you fanged brat!" Esmé Squalor said.

"Sticks and stones," I whispered to myself so I wouldn't get into more trouble by defending Sunny which would only lead to more disaster. Esmé slammed the door shut and Sunny and I could hear the troupe's roaring laughter as we walked back to the trunk. I waited until we had gathered the tent materials and were piecing them together before I asked:

"What did you realize, Sunny?"

She smiled. "Milsite," she said which meant something along the lines of "if we can see everything and everyone from Mount Fraught, that also means that my siblings will be able to see us."

I stared at Sunny as she dug her tooth into the ground and stuck in the pegs while I attached the cloth to the right spots. Could she be right? Were Violet and Klaus really coming? But how could she be so sure? I glanced behind me in the direction that the sun had been moments earlier and now the golden light had been extinguished until morning. The moon hung in the sky now circled by thousands of twinkling stars. The thing was, I wanted to believe that what Sunny said is true. However, I knew by now that with my luck, I would lose them. Just like I lost my godfather, Jacques. Just like I lost my parents.

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>

**Next chapter will be Klaus' POV :)**


	13. Taking Chances

** New chapter with Klaus' perspective as promised! :)**

**EnJoY and R&R please!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Taking Chances<strong>

I barely had any time to think before the caravan began to plummet in the opposite direction of Count Olaf's black car where Jane and Sunny were trapped. Only one thought ran through my head as the caravan jostled and jerked.

"We have to stop this caravan!" I screamed. It moved with such tremendous speed and time matter more than anything now. I reached for my glasses, feeling in better control as I put them on. Now I could see but that didn't make our situation any less dire. All I could think about was Jane and hearing her voice on the other end of the walkie-talkie. She had tried to tell me something. But what could that be?

The contents of the caravan rattled and I evaded a roasting pan. I lifted myself off of the floor. A few dominos skittered by and a hammock swung dangerously overhead. It looked as though it would fall at any moment and trap us.

All I could see now was Violet and she was looking around determinedly. It was a sense of comfort as she scanned the room and began to unbutton the shirt we shared as apart of our disguise. I knew when Violet wore that expression that she was trying to invent a solution. I just hoped she would be quick enough to get us out of this.

"Help me get us out of these freakish pants we're both in," Violet said, "There's no use pretending we're a two-headed person anymore, and we both need to be as able-bodied as possible."

I quickly helped Violet slide off the pants and now we stood in our regular clothes. It was a relief to be able to not be attached anymore. I quickly moved out of the way of a falling potted plant. I glanced at Violet then, and a smile spread across my face as I watched her tie her hair up with her ribbon. I knew she was inventing a way to get us out of here so we could rescue Sunny and Jane. My mind whirled with possibilities for an invention.

"Are you going to make a brake?" I asked.

"Not yet," Violet said, "A brake interferes with the wheels of a vehicle, and this caravan's wheels are spinning too quickly for such interference. I'm going to unhook these hammocks and use them as a drag chute."

"Drag chute?" I said. I raked my brain for anything I ever read about drag chutes, though I've never had much of an interest in such devices. Not like Violet.

"Drag chutes are a little like parachutes attached to the back of a car," Violet explained hastily as a coat rack clattered around her. She reached up to the hammock that we had slept in during our stay. She detached it from the wall. "Race drivers use them to help stop their cars when a race is over. If I dangle these hammocks out the caravan door, we should slow down considerably."

"What can I do?" I asked hoping to help and speed the process along. Judging from the speed, we would need to act quite hurriedly if we want to avoid falling off the side of the mountain.

"Look in Hugo's pantry," Violet said, "and see if you can find anything sticky."

It was a strange request and I nearly opened my mouth to question why something sticky would help. However, I learned a long time ago to trust Violet's ideas and so I hastily moved to the huge cupboard that had been used to store ingredients for Hugo's meals. The cupboard swung back and forth and I gripped the door open to peer inside. Seeing all the ingredients reminded me of Sunny's newly acquired cooking skills. I wanted to see Sunny's culinary skills develop. So I had to hurry.

"Klaus," Violet said firmly as she took down another hammock and tied it with the first one. "I don't mean to rush you, but we need to stop this caravan as soon as possible. Have you found anything sticky?"

I blinked and returned to my task. I pushed through the bottles and jars of cooking materials. "There are loads of sticky things here," I said, "I see blackstrap molasses, wild clover honey, corn syrup, aged balsamic vinegar, apple butter, strawberry jam, caramel sauce, maple syrup, butterscotch topping, maraschino liqueur, virgin and extra-virgin olive oil, lemon curd, dried apricots, mango chutney, crema di noci, tamarind paste, hot mustard, marshmallows, creamed corn, peanut butter, grape preserves, salt water taffy, condensed milk, pumpkin pie filling, and glue. I don't know why Hugo kept glue in the pantry, but never mind. Which items do you want?"

"All of them," Violet said firmly. "Find some way of mixing them, while I tie these hammocks together."

A pitcher rolled by and I snatched it from the floor. I began to fill it with the ingredients while Violet sat on the floor, gathering the hammock cords and twisting them into a knot.

The trip grew rougher and rougher. Each shake brought back the feeling of crossing the stormy waters of Lake Lachrymose to rescue Aunt Josephine.

In a few moments, Violet stood up with the hammocks, all tied together. I had finished filling the pitcher at nearly the same time and held it up. It was filled with thick, colorful slime.

"When I say the word," Violet said, "I'm going to open the door and cast these hammocks out. I want you at the other end of the caravan, Klaus. Open that little window and pour that mixture all over the wheels. If the hammocks work as a drag chute and the sticky substance interferes with the wheels, the caravan should slow down enough to save us. I just need to tie the hammocks to the doorknob."

"Are you using the Devil's Tongue knot?" I asked.

"The Devil's Tongue hasn't brought us the best luck," Violet said. "I'm using the Sumac, a knot I invented myself. I named it after a sing I admire. There—it feels secure. Are you ready to pour that mixture onto the wheels?"

I moved to the window and opened it as Violet had directed. I stared at the countryside as the caravan raced by. It was windy and jagged and any moment the caravan could fall into a hole or roll off the edge of one of the mountain peaks. "I guess I'm ready," I said, though I wasn't so sure.

I had been thinking about how I wanted to tell Violet something. Anything. I had to tell her that I admired her inventing skills. I wasn't sure what I last said to Sunny before Olaf took her. I remembered the last thing I had said to Jane. But it wasn't enough. Saying that she should stay out of trouble wasn't enough. I never got a chance to tell her that I liked the song she sang during the lion show. Or perhaps that even though her outfit was ridiculous, I still thought she looked pretty. She was always pretty. Even without all that makeup. I loved it most when she smiled. Of course, this wasn't the first time Jane had been taken away. But this time it was worse because I couldn't be sure if I ever would see her again. And now Sunny was with her. I knew that if we died…if we didn't stop this caravan, Olaf would win. He would get the fortunes and then…I shuddered at the thought of Olaf murdering them. I couldn't let that happen to Sunny or Jane. I couldn't fail them like that. I wanted to live to tell Jane how pretty she was and tell Sunny how delicious I thought her hot chocolate recipe was. Now I wanted to tell Violet how much I looked up to her. "Violet, before we try your invention, I want to tell you something."

"If we don't try it now," Violet said grimly, "you won't have the chance to tell me anything." I sighed and watched Violet give her knot one more tug before she turned back to me. "Now!" she said, and threw open the caravan door.

For a moment, all I could do was stare in horror and fear at the mountain's twisty roads with its strange, square peaks and the grinding noise that came from the wheels.

"Now!" Violet yelled again and both of us snapped back into action. I leaned out the window and began to pour the sticky mixture of ingredients onto the closest wheels, while Violet tossed the hammocks out the door.

The invention worked perfectly. The hammocks instantly caught the rushing air and swelled out behind the caravan. The caravan began to slow down. The sticky mixture caused the wheels to move less quickly. In a few moments, we were traveling at a more comfortable pace.

"It's working!" I cried in amazement. I knew Violet was a good inventor and that none of her inventions had failed before, but I was still in awe at how perfectly this one worked. How perfectly Violet had saved our lives again.

"We're not done yet," Violet said and went over to an overturned table. Violet dragged the table over to the open door. "Now that the wheels are slowing down," she said, "we can use this as a brake."

I was in the middle of pouring the last of the mixture onto the wheels and I looked at Violet curiously. "How?" I asked.

My question was answered when Violet laid down on the floor and dangled the table out of the caravan, gripping the legs. She dragged it on the ground and there was a loud scraping noise and the table shook roughly in her hands. It was working and the caravan began to slow down even more. The items stopped falling off shelves and rolling around on the floor. There was a final screech as the wheels stopped altogether and all was still. Violet leaned forward and placed the table in front of one of the wheels so it couldn't start rolling again. She stood and glanced up at me.

"We did it," Violet said.

"_You_ did it," I said. I couldn't help smile. "The entire plan was your idea." I placed the pitcher down on the floor and wiped my hands on a towel that had fallen on the floor.

"Don't put down that pitcher," Violet said examining the wreckage of the caravan. "We should gather up as many useful things as possible. We'll need to get this caravan moving uphill if we want to rescue Sunny."

"And reach the headquarters," Klaus added. "Count Olaf has the map we found, but I remember that the headquarters are in the Valley of Four Drafts, near the source of the Stricken Stream. It'll be very cold there. I hope Sunny and Jane are staying warm."

Violet nodded. "Well, there is plenty of clothing," Violet said, looking around. "Let's grab everything we can and organize it outside."

I nodded and bent down to grab the pitcher from off the floor again. I grabbed several items of clothing including Colette's small hand mirror. I staggered under the weight of carrying so many things as I followed Violet out of the caravan. The floors creaked as we stepped onto the rocky earth. As I looked around the misty and deserted landscaped, I realized just how close we had been to falling off the edge of the mountain. In fact, the caravan sat right at the very edge of the mountain range.

The mountains appeared to look like one large staircase. To one side of the caravan was a gray mist that covered the next stair where we might have crashed onto if the caravan had rolled any further. On the other side were the turbid waters of the Stricken Stream.

"It looks like the brake worked just in time," Violet said quietly. "No matter where the caravan would have gone, we would have been finished."

I nodded in agreement and gazed around us. "It will be difficult to navigate the caravan out of here," I said, "You'll have to invent a steering device."

"And some sort of engine," Violet said. "That will take some time."

"We don't have any time," Klaus said, "If we don't hurry, Count Olaf will be too far away and we'll never find Sunny and Jane."

"We'll find them," Violet said firmly and put the items she carried on the ground. "Jane usually finds a way to find _us_."

"Now it's our turn to find her," I said, "and now Sunny too."

Violet nodded. "Let's go back into the caravan, and look for—"

Before Violet could finish, there was a horrible crackling noise. The caravan slowly began to roll toward the edge of the peak. The wheels had smashed the small table so there was nothing to halt the caravan from moving. It moved forward and I leaned down to grab hold of a hammock, but Violet stopped me.

"It's too heavy," she said, "We can't stop it."

"We can't let it fall off the peak!" I cried.

"We'd be dragged down, too," Violet said.

I sighed though I knew Violet was right. It was hard to watch the caravan roll over the edge of the peak. It rolled over one last bump and then toppled over the edge. It disappeared in the mist and all we could see was a ghostly rectangle getting smaller as it faded away.

"Why isn't there a crash?" I asked, listening intently.

"The drag chute is slowing it down," Violet said. "Just wait."

We waited and after a few moments, there was a muffled boom as the caravan hit the next stair.

I found myself moving closer to Violet as the bitter winds of the mountains blew around us and gave me goosebumps. I stared at the Striken Stream and back at the edge of the peak where the caravan had followed. We were so close. So close to meeting a deadly fate.

Violet reached down to put on one of the heavy coats she had removed from the caravan. "Take one of these coats," she said passing one of the coats to me. "It's cold out here, and it's likely to get even colder. The headquarters are supposed to be very high up in the mountains. By the time we get there, we'll probably be wearing every stitch of clothing."

"But how are we going to get there?" I said. "We're nowhere near the Valley of Four Drafts, and the caravan is destroyed."

"Let's take a moment to see what we have," Violet said, "I might be able to construct something from the items we managed to take."

"I hope so," I said. "Sunny and Jane are getting farther and farther away. We'll never catch up with them without some sort of vehicle."

I spread out the items from the caravan beside Violet's. Violet picked through the pile, however the items proved to be useless for creating any sort of vehicle. She tied her hair up again and frowned as she scanned the few items we had recovered. My pile had the pitcher, Colette's hand mirror, a wool poncho, and a sweatshirt that read CALIGARI CARNIVAL. While Violet's pile was no more useful. It contained a large bread knife, the ukulele, and one more coat. Even though I wasn't an inventor like Violet, I knew those materials weren't enough to construct any sort of transportation.

"I suppose I could make a spark by rubbing two rocks together," Violet said, glancing around the misty countryside, "or we could play the ukelele and bang on the pitcher. That might attract some help."

"But who would hear it?" I asked staring at the mist. "We didn't see a sign of anyone else when we were in the caravan. The way through the Mortmain Mountains is like a poem I read once, about the road less traveled."

"Did the poem have a happy ending?" Violet asked breaking me from my thoughts.

I shook my head. "It was neither happy or unhappy," I said, "It was ambiguous. Well, let's gather up these materials and take them with us."

"Take them with us?" Violet said. "We don't know where to go, and we don't know how to get there."

"Sure we do," I said. "The Stricken Stream starts at a source high in the mountains, and winds its way down through the Valley of Four Drafts, where the headquarters are. It's probably not the quickest or easiest way to get there, but if we follow the stream up the mountains, it'll take us where we want to go."

"But that could take days," Violet said. "We don't have a map, or any food or water for the journey, or tents or sleeping bags or any other camping equipment."

"We can use all this clothing as blankets," Klaus said, "and we can sleep in any shelter we can find. There were quite a few caves on the map that animals use for hibernation."

We glanced at each other. Neither of us wanted to hike up this mountain for hours in the freezing cold wrapped in another's clothing and spending nights in hibernation caves. It was terribly unpleasant and I wished we did not have to take this path. However, by now, misery seemed to always shroud our lives. So we gathered up the items and stuck them in our pockets. With one last look at the tracks of the caravan, we started our journey up the mountain, following the Striken Stream uphill.

We remained silent for the majority of our journey and my mind wandered to different things. I thought about the poem about the road less traveled again. I was referring to Robert Frost's poem called: "The Road Not Taken". Thinking about Robert Frost reminded me of Jane and that morning we sat watching the sunrise. 'Nothing Gold Can Stay' was the title and whenever I thought about it now, it reminded me of Jane's hair. Her hair was like that gold that the author spoke of and after being taken away from me so many times, I realized how true it was. Jane seemed to always slip away just like the beauty of the rising sun. I glanced to one side and could see the sun as it began to set with that last shred of gold. I wondered if Jane were gazing on at the sunset at this very moment as well. Was she upset? Did she believe we had perished? Whatever it was, I hope she stayed safe. Even if she believed the worst had happened to us, I would search for her and make her certain of how much I cared about her. I promised myself that I would find Jane and Sunny. And the next time, I wouldn't let Jane slip away again.

I thought about how the Quagmires had been separated from us a while ago and I didn't want the same to happen to Jane. Thinking about the Quagmires made me remember the times spent at Prufrock Prep. I remembered that terrible girl, Carmelita Spats who had been so mean to us. But she had been worse to Jane. Jane's story about being locked in that shed to burn alive came back to me. It was horrible to think someone would purposely try to kill another. Especially, Jane. I was more than glad that she had survived. I didn't know what I would do without her.

It felt like centuries ago that the two Quagmire triplets, Jane, Violet, Sunny, and myself were sitting in the Orphan's Shack talking like close friends. I terribly missed being able to escape from these terrible circumstances with a few friendly faces. I hoped the Quagmire triplets had found a way down from the self-sustaining hot air mobile home. I hoped they were safe and had met up with V.F.D. members for help. I felt a little guilty that they had lost their parents and their sibling and now I may in fact of a surviving parent. I felt bad for Jane too. She barely knew her parents and it didn't seem like she had ever had a truly normal life. And that's why I had to save her. Jane more than anyone deserved to have a happy life the way my siblings and I did while our parents were alive. I wanted to be able to give that to Jane. And to Sunny as well. Both of them had such little time with happiness. I wanted to see Jane light up whenever she sang a song again. I wanted to see Sunny reading recipe books and developing her own recipes.

"Klaus," Violet said suddenly, breaking me from my thoughts. It had been so long since we spoke that it was as if I were waking from a dream, "when we were in the caravan, you said you wanted to tell me something before we tried the invention, but I didn't let you. What was it?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I just wanted to say something, in case—well, in case the invention didn't work." I heaved a sigh, averting my gaze to the sky that had begun to darken in the waning light. "I don't remember the last thing I said to Sunny," I said softly. "It must have been when we were in Madame Lulu's tent, or maybe outside, just before we stepped into the caravan. Had I known that Count Olaf was going to take her away, I would have tried to say something special. I could have complimented her on the hot chocolate she made, or told her how skillful she was at staying in disguise."

"You can tell her those things," Violet said, "when we see her again. Jane too."

"There's another thing too," I said in an even softer voice. "About Jane. I know she seems to always be taken away from us by Count Olaf and yet I still never have the courage to tell her how I feel about her." I kept gazing up at the sky, hoping the darkening sky would disguise my blush, "I like Jane. A lot. And I don't know how to tell her. I wish I told her when we last saw her. But I guess I didn't feel comfortable in front of Olaf when he was standing there. I've been waiting for the right moment but something always gets in the way."

"Well, you can tell Jane when we see her," Violet said, "I understand you're afraid she won't feel the same but what if she does feel the same way about you? If you don't do it, you'll always wonder about what might have happened."

I nodded. "I want to tell her," I said, "I do. I've tried to so many times. But there was always something that got in the way. Like when we lived with the Squalors and found her and the Quagmires at the bottom of the elevator shaft. I was hoping to set them free and I swore when we did, I would tell her. But then Gunther took them away." I bit my lip as I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I recalled my utter devastation of seeing that cage empty. I often had nightmares about it happening again. "I can't stand that Olaf keeps taking Jane away from us."

Violet reached out and patted my shoulder gently. "I know," she said, "it makes me angry too. I just hope Sunny won't get hurt either."

"That's why we have to hurry," I said, "I can't bear another minute of either of them being in Olaf's clutches. What if we're too late again? We're so far behind Olaf and his troupe."

"But we know where they're going," Violet said, "and we know that he won't harm a hair on her head. Count Olaf thinks we perished in the caravan, so he needs Sunny to get his hands on the fortune. Besides, Jane will protect her."

"That's what I'm afraid of happening," I said, "Jane will end up getting hurt herself. You've seen what Olaf has done to her. She looks a little better now but…"

"Klaus," Violet said, "I know you're worried but Jane's strong. She can take care of herself."

"It would be much easier to agree with you if Jane were here," I said, "at least then, I could be sure she's safe."

"Don't worry," Violet said, "this time we'll make sure Sunny _and _Jane come with us. And then you can tell Jane that you like her and tell Sunny something special."

"They're probably very frightened," I went on, "I just hope they know we're coming after them."

"Me, too," Violet said.

We walked in silence for a bit. The wind howled and a strange, gurgling noise came from the fish.

"I think those fish are having trouble breathing," I said, pointing into the stream. "Something in the water is making them cough."

"Maybe the Stricken Stream isn't always that ugly color," Violet said. "What would turn normal water into grayish black slime?"

"Iron ore," I replied thoughtfully as I recalled a book I had read on high-altitude environmentalism. "Or perhaps a clay deposit, loosened by an earthquake or another geological event, or some sort of pollution. There might be an ink or licorice factory nearby."

"Maybe V.F.D. will tell us," Violet said, "when we reach the headquarters."

"Maybe one of our parents will tell us," I said quietly.

"We shouldn't get our hopes up," Violet said. "Even if one of our parents really did survive the fire, and the V.F.D. headquarters really are at the Valley of Four Drafts, we still don't know that we will see them when we arrive."

"I don't see the harm in getting our hopes up," I said. "We're walking along a damaged stream, toward a vicious villain, in an attempt to rescue our sister and Jane, and find the headquarters of a secret organization. I could use a little bit of hope right now."

Violet halted abruptly. "I could use another layer of clothing," she said. "It's getting colder."

I nodded and held up the garment I was carrying. "Do you want the poncho," I asked, "or the sweatshirt?"

"The poncho, if you don't mind," Violet said. "After my experience in the House of Freaks, I don't wish to advertise the Caligari Carnival."

"Me neither," I said, taking the sweatshirt from Violet. "I think I'll wear it inside out."

We decided to put our garments on over our coats. We exchanged grins at our ridiculous appearance.

"These are worse than the pinstripe suits Esmé Squalor gave us," Violet said.

"Or those itchy sweaters we wore when we stayed with Mr. Poe," I said. "But at least we'll keep warm. If it gets even colder, we can take turns wearing the extra coat."

"If one of our parents is at the headquarters," Violet said, "he or she might not recognize us underneath all this clothing. We'll look like two large lumps."

I gazed up at the snowy peaks and felt dizzy for more reasons than just the height of the Mortmain Mountains. I had a million questions in my head. Could we really reach the Valley of Four Drafts by ourselves? Would V.F.D. be expecting us? Would Count Olaf have reached the headquarters ahead of us? Would we find Sunny and Jane? Would we find one of our parents? And if so, which one would it be?

"Which parent," I said, voicing my question aloud, "do you think is the survivor?"

Violet opened her mouth to reply but was caught off guard by something.

"What in the world," she said, "is that ominous-looking cloud of tiny, white buzzing objects coming toward us?"

I followed Violet's gaze and frowned as I noticed the buzzing cloud she was referring to. "I remember reading something in a book on mountainous insect life," I said, "but I can't quite recall the details."

"Try to remember," Violet said, glancing nervously at the swarm. The swarm began to organize into the shape of an arrow. I raked my brain for the details of that book I read.

"I think they might be snow gnats," I said, "Snow gnats live in cold mountain areas and have been known to group themselves into well-defined shapes."

"I'm glad gnats are harmless," Violet said, "It doesn't look like there's any way to avoid them."

"There's something else about snow gnats," Klaus said, "that I'm not quite remembering."

The arrow of gnats moved closer until it was near our noses. One flew forward and stung Violet on the nose.

"Ow!" Violet cried. The gnat went back to its position at the head of the arrow. A red mark had appeared on Violet's nose where she had been stung. She rubbed it, grimacing. "That hurt," she said, "It feels like a pin stuck me."

"I remember now," I said. "Snow gnats are ill-tempered and enjoy stinging people for no reason whatso—"

Before I could finish, the arrow morphed into a circle and the gnats started to swirl around us.

"Are the stings poisonous?" Violet asked.

"Mildly," Klaus said. "We'll be all right if we get stung a few times, but many stings could make us very ill. Ow!"

A gnat just stung me on the cheek. "People say that if you don't bother stinging insects, they won't bother you," Violet said nervously. "Ow!"

"That's scarcely ever true," Klaus said, "and it's certainly not true with snow gnats. Ow! Ow! _Ow!_"

"What should we—_Ow!_" Violet attempted to ask but she was interrupted by another sting.

"I don't—_Ow!_" I tried.

The gnats began to sting us on one side and then the other. Violet received stings on her chin and a bunch of them stung my left ear. We shrieked, trying to wave them away. However, we only received more stings on our hands. They swooped down from above us and we had to duck before standing on tiptoe to evade the gnats that approached from below. Violet and I stood there, unsure of whether we should try to escape blindly for fear of falling into the Stricken Stream or off the mountain.

Suddenly, I had an idea. "Coat!" I managed to yell and then spit out a gnat that had tried to sting my tongue. Violet understood, grabbing the extra coat and draped it over us like an umbrella. The gnats could only reach our hands now. We exchanged glances as we winced from the pain of sting after sting.

"We'll never reach the Valley of Four Drafts like this," Violet said over the buzzing of the gnats. "How can we stop them, Klaus?"

"Fire drives them away," I said, recalling the book I had read about gnats. "In the book I read, the author explained that the smell of smoke can even keep an entire swarm at bay. But we can't start a fire underneath a coat."

"Ow!" Violet cried as a gnat stung Violet's thumb. We went around the corner where the swarm had appeared and through a spot of worn fabric, we could see a dark, circular hole in the side of the mountain. A cave perhaps.

"That must be the entrance to a cave," I said, "Could we start a fire in there?"

"Maybe," Violet said, "And perhaps we'd annoy a hibernating animal."

"We've already managed to annoy thousands of animals," I said. A gnat stung my wrist and I nearly dropped the pitcher. "I don't think we have much choice. I think we have to head into the cave and take our chances."

Violet nodded but still looked uncertain about entering the cave. We carefully walked to the cave. I was more worried about taking our chances with the cave than the gnats or the height of the mountain.

As we stepped inside, we could see an orange glow of a fire and a very familiar person who I never thought we'd see again.

"Hey you cakesniffers!" a voice said from the back of the cave, and it almost made me wish I had taken my chances outside with the gnats.

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><p><strong>Guess who's back? Carmelita Spats of course :( But at least Violet and Klaus will also meet the survivor of the fire soon ;)<strong>

**Review!**


	14. Faith

**New chapter! R&R please! :) **

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><p>"Well, we can't know for sure when or if they'll come," I said, "but for now, we can find ways to give them time."<p>

I grinned as I picked the car keys up from the ground where I had put them. I was poised and ready to throw them over the side of the mountain.

"Nothrow," Sunny said. By this she meant, "Don't throw them over the mountain or we'll never get out of here."

"But if we don't get rid of them," I said, "then Olaf might take us away from here. What if Violet and Klaus did survive? We can't leave them here."

"Drene," Sunny said, which was her way of saying "But we won't have any way to get out of here and survive."

I sighed. "I guess you're right," I said, "though it really would have been funny to see the look on their faces…" I frowned to myself.

We finished setting up the tents in silence. All I kept thinking about was how in the world I was going to get Sunny and I out of Olaf's clutches. I knew now that Violet and Klaus probably died that it was my job to take care of Sunny. It worried me that I might not be able to do even that. This mountain was so difficult to escape without dying out in the wild. I had to do what was best for Sunny and at the moment, the most we could do was hope for an opportunity.

But what if that opportunity never came? I always found ways to escape before, but it had been easier when Olaf was busy scheming to get the Baudelaires. Now his scheming days were over. Well, at least for the Baudelaires. He'd probably keep us locked in cages again or separate us so there would be no chance of even thinking about escaping. What if he brought us to that deserted island the way he promised when the Quagmires were still in his clutches? How would we escape from him while trapped in the middle of an ocean?

Thinking about it made it much more difficult to build the tent as my fingers trembled uncontrollably with fear. I tried to hide it from Sunny, telling myself that letting her know how terrified I was may upset her. Sunny needed someone to give her hope after all the terrible things that have happened. I needed to reassure her that she was safe.

We finished setting up two tents and then, unloaded the luggage from the trunk. We went back to the car to explain that the chore had been done.

"That took a long time," Olaf said, "let's get out and get some rest."

I picked up Sunny as his troupe piled out of the car and moved off to the tent reserved for them. Olaf stomped over to me with Esmé at his side.

"You're going to sleep in that tent," Olaf ordered gesturing to the tent that his troupe was entering. "Hooky swore he'd keep an eye on you. My associates will take care of the buck tooth."

"That won't be necessary," I said, tightening my hold on Sunny. "I'll do it. In fact, I'm going to stay outside with Sunny. I sleep wherever she sleeps."

"No you won't," Olaf growled. "You'll sleep wherever I tell you to sleep. You," he said to the one of the white-faced woman, "grab the baby brat and put her in the casserole dish. Hooky, why don't you take Blondie in the tent with you."

"Fine," I said, "I won't sleep outside, just let me put Sunny to bed."

But the white-faced woman snatched Sunny out of my grasp and then the hook-handed man was pushing me towards the tent.

"Meanwhile," Olaf added as I was ushered away. "I'll enjoy reading more of your stupid notebook." He smiled nastily and went inside his tent along with Esmé.

I glowered at the snow beneath my feet. I was mostly afraid of what would happen when he found out about Monty Kensicle and my secret ladder. That may be my only way of escaping and now that would be ruined.

The hook-handed man shoved me inside. The flap of the tent closed behind me and all that was inside the tent were a few sleeping bags and some of the luggage including my own bag.

"Now I don't want any funny business from you," he said, "you're staying in here."

I sighed. "Well, I guess I'll sleep now."

I curled up on the floor of the tent as the rest of Olaf's troupe entered. Now I was trapped with these horrible people who all had terrible hygiene.

I didn't bother trying to sleep. I knew if I tried, all I would be thinking about was Violet and Klaus. Oh, Klaus. I couldn't keep denying it. I knew that no matter how much I tried to convince myself, they weren't coming back. I found myself burst into sobs again. Knowing I had failed my best friend.

"I'm sorry, Klaus," I whispered through my sobs as if he could hear me, "I'm so sorry…"

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><p>After a while, the troupe was fast asleep, their loud snores making it even harder to sleep. I sat up and found my bag. I opened it, spilling out some of its contents. The owl was one of them and I felt that it was safe enough to bring it out without anyone seeing. I examined the figurine, which was still a lot heavier than it looked. I brought it to my ear and shook it. Something jostled inside the owl. Inside it? What could there possibly be hidden inside the figurine? The inside maybe hollow, but the owl itself didn't look nearly big enough to hold much. What was most intriguing was the owl's eyes. One of its eyes was golden while the other was midnight black. That was the only real difference between the appearance of this figurine and Spirit, except for the obvious difference, of course.<p>

I turned the owl over, looking for some way to open it. But there was nothing but the carving of an eye at the bottom. I knew what that eye meant as it was V.F.D.'s insignia. Though I couldn't decide whether it meant good or bad. I sighed and tossed the owl back inside my bag. It landed with a thud beside a very familiar blue flower. It must have fallen out of my notebook and got lost in my bag. I was glad. I didn't like to think of Olaf having the flower Jacques Snicket gave me before he…

I cleared my head before those horrible memories could enter my mind again added with fresh memories of the bald associate. I never wanted to witness death like that again.

I picked up the tiny blue flower Jacques had called a Plumbago flower. It was long dead by now. The color was beginning to fade to brown and the flower had shriveled up. Dead. Just like my parents, just like Jacques Snicket, just like the bald associate, and just like Violet and Klaus.

I felt tears fill my eyes again and I stood up. Being careful not to wake anyone, I tiptoed out of the tent into the cold night. I held the flower in my hand and brushed my tears away with my free hand.

I saw the casserole dish where Sunny was probably trying to get some sleep. So I came quietly, not wanting to disturb her.

However, Sunny must have heard me because she poked her tiny head out of her 'bed', startled. She relaxed when she saw it was me and looked at me questioningly.

I sighed and sat down on a flat rock that was near her. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you," I said, "I just can't be alone right now. I especially don't feel right about leaving you alone out here. Go ahead and sleep if you want. I'll just watch the stars or something. I don't think I could sleep even if I tried."

I looked up at the stars that were still glowing brightly.

Sunny didn't look happy about it, but she went back inside her casserole dish and tried to sleep.

I tried to make myself comfortable and lay down against rough, dry surface of the rock.

Not that I would be sleeping. I couldn't sleep while Sunny was in danger. I couldn't sleep while Violet and Klaus were…I took a deep shaky breath and tried to will myself not to burst into tears again.

"Haluda?" Sunny said, peeking out of the lid of the casserole dish at me. I tried to hide my tears. Sunny seemed to be handling this with a lot more courage than I. I couldn't let Sunny see me cry like this. I didn't want to disappoint her too, since all I seemed to be capable of was crying and being helpless. By 'haluda', I think Sunny meant, "Are you okay?"

"No," I admitted.

After a moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned in surprise to see that Sunny was there. She sat down beside me and gently rubbed my arm.

I quickly tried to wipe my tears away again. I sat up and put my arm around Sunny. It really did make me feel a little better.

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this," I said, when Sunny was silent, "I just…it hurts."

"Gerod," Sunny said, softly, which meant, "I miss them too." She sat down beside me. We were perched near the frozen waterfall. I glanced at Sunny and could see a tear rolling down her cheek.

"There's something I have to tell you," I said quietly. I could feel tears beginning to form once more as I prepared to admit to the truth. "It's my fault that Violet and Klaus…may have perished."

Sunny frowned. "Solfu," Sunny said meaning, "It's not your fault. Olaf ordered his troupe to cut the rope and separate us."

I shook my head and let it fall into my hands, feeling utterly ashamed.

"It is my fault," I sobbed, "Olaf…he found my notebook. You saw he had it in the car. Well, the night Esmé and I came to the freak caravan, Olaf found my notebook and read some of it. He found out that you and your siblings were in disguise because I was so careless! Not just because Madame Lulu told him. And then, Esmé convinced me that in order to save your life I would have to follow through with her plan to push Madame Lulu into the lion pit. That's why I was standing so close to the edge. I was about to push her in when Olaf made that announcement that made the crowd go wild. But none of that worked because Olaf still got away with hurting them anyways. Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm a terrible, terrible person!" I continued to sob.

It was a moment before Sunny spoke.

"No cry," she said softly, patting my hand. By that she meant, "You're not at fault. It was a mistake and even though you almost did a terrible thing, you did it to save us. I haven't always done the right thing either."

"But I was planning on murdering someone," I cried, "the worst you or your siblings have done is steal and I was usually apart of it. I nearly killed someone."

"Wedal," Sunny said which probably meant, "We all make mistakes. Besides, I don't think my siblings perished."

I looked up at Sunny.

"How can you be so sure?" I asked.

"Lopi," Sunny said. I think she meant, "I can't be sure. But they're my siblings. My family. And I trust that they're coming for me and for you as well. They've never abandoned me before."

I stared at Sunny, speechless. I couldn't believe how grown up she sounded.

"If your siblings are really…dead…then it's my job to take care of you now. I can't let Olaf get your fortune or anything. I have to protect you."

"Ofesel," Sunny said, gently. She meant something along the lines of "I know you feel that way. But I can take care of myself. I'm not a baby."

I glanced at Sunny and couldn't help smile. Seeing her standing beside me, talking with such maturity brought tears to my eyes. She was right. She had grown up from the tiny baby she used to be. Now she could walk and was beginning to discover new interests besides biting things. It made me happy and sad at the same time because these terrible things had forced Sunny to grow so quickly. I knew how she felt. Both of us had lost our parents at a very young age. I didn't like to say it out loud or even think about it, but sometimes I was a little jealous of Violet and Klaus. Only because they got to spend so much time with their parents. I knew I shouldn't think that way because they too had suffered from their loss. I just wish that I had more memories of _my_ parents. The only memories I had were of that day on the dock with that lily pad and a vague, dream-like memory of that fire.

"You're right Sunny," I said, "you're not a baby. You're a young girl now. Nevertheless, I won't let Olaf hurt you."

"Joru," Sunny said, which meant, "What about you? I don't want you to get hurt while trying to protect me."

"Don't worry, Sunny," I said, gently, trying to sound confident. Like Violet always was. "I'll find a way to get you out of Olaf's clutches and try not to get hurt, I promise. There's not really any place to go at the moment, but Olaf has to take us back to his house at some point. Then, I can help you get away."

"You too," Sunny said, meaning, "If I'm going to escape then, you will too."

I nodded, though I couldn't make any promises. Then, something occurred to me.

"I know you've wanted to know for a while now," I said, "so I guess I better tell you now before something gets in the way."

"Whatit?" Sunny said meaning, "What's that?"

"What V.F.D. stands for," I said, "I've known for quite awhile though it seems everytime I've tried to tell you, something got in the way. Even though Violet and Klaus may not be around to hear it, I think you should know. It stands for Volunteer Fire Department."

Sunny's eyes widened. "Fira?" she asked meaning, "You mean like firefighters?"

"Yes, exactly," I said, "it's basically a secret organization that is dedicated to putting out fires and bringing justice. As you already know, Olaf was once a member meaning he was probably a good person for a time believe it or not. I wonder what changed. How does someone go from being good to stealing fortunes, doing arson, and plotting terrible schemes to hurt innocent people?"

We were both silent as none of us could think of an answer to my question. Just like all the other mysteries surrounding us, this one made me so dizzy. However, for a moment I thought I did know the answer. After all, I nearly ended someone's life in order to save another. I had taken in part in stealing those keys to the Library of Records to find out about the Baudelaire file. It was frightening to think about all of the horrible crimes I've committed.

I opened my hand that still held the blue flower and was suddenly surprised to find that the brown, dry flower was now as blue as the sky in the daytime.

"Floar?" Sunny asked when she saw it.

"Oh, it's just this flower that Jacques Snicket gave me before…" I said trailing off. Sunny seemed to understand though because she nodded sadly.

"Malica?" she asked. I suppose she meant, "How did you make it do that?"

I glanced at Sunny with wide eyes. I forgot she didn't already know about my abilities. I guess it was about time she did. Klaus might not be around anymore and it was easier when I had someone to talk to about it. Now that Klaus might be…dead, I'll probably be the only one with strange powers. That strange woman had said there were others but none of them were my best friend.

"There's something else I have to tell you," I said, "you see, when I was living with Mr. Poe, he didn't take me straight to Uncle Monty's to live there. I was going to have Count Olaf as my guardian. However, during the car ride, I had this strange feeling which was probably a warning that Count Olaf was a terrible person. Anyways, we reached his house and Mr. Poe walked on in front of me. the horrible feeling kept getting worse and when the front door opened, all of the sudden, everything went black. I woke up to find myself in a strange passageway underneath Uncle Monty's home. It was like the one at 667 Dark Avenue. That's how Uncle Monty found me." I sighed. "I'm sorry for not telling you before. Only Klaus knows. I have strange abilities that allow me to do strange things like make objects move without touching them. I didn't say anything earlier because I didn't want you or Violet to think I was crazy. Klaus has them too so we decided to keep it a secret between us. And well, now, he may not be alive anymore for us to discover what they mean together. So I guess it's best that you know now."

"Melana?" Sunny said meaning, "Is that how you turn those mean girls' hair different colors?"

I giggled as I remembered how Kate and Christina's hair had turned fire engine red and blue after they humiliated me in front of the entire school at the New York Boarding School. "Yes," I said, "that's how my own hair grew back I think. A lot of strange things have happened. And now I've figured out that I can sort of control my abilities. Klaus and I called them Matilda powers because we could move things without touching them. Watch this." I stared at the blue flower in my palm in deep concentration.

After a moment, the flower rose out of my hand and I willed it to float up a little above our heads. Sunny watched in amazement. I brought it down again and caught it with my hands.

"Cool, huh?" I said.

Sunny nodded in agreement and then, yawned.

"Why don't you go back to sleep," I said, "I can't sleep so I'm just going to stay out here for a bit. But you need sleep, you look tired."

Sunny opened her mouth and I knew she was about to protest when she yawned again. I laughed. "You can't fool me," I said, "you need to get some sleep okay?"

Sunny looked reluctant but she sighed and went back inside her casserole dish bed.

"If you want," I added, "I'll sing a song to help you sleep."

Sunny poked her head out again and smiled in what I assumed was agreement. So I thought of a song and began to sing it. It was soft and more about Klaus than anyone else:

"_Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye my love_

_I can't hide, can't hide, can't hide what has come_

_I have to go_

_I have to go_

_I have to go_

_And leave you alone_

_But always know_

_Always know_

_Always know that I love you so_

_I love you so_

_I love you so, oh_

_Goodbye brown eyes_

_Goodbye for now_

_Goodbye sunshine_

_Take care of yourself_

_I have to go_

_I have to go_

_I have to go_

_And leave you alone_

_But always know_

_Always know_

_Always know that I love you so_

_I love you so, oh_

_I love you so, oh_

_La lullaby_

_Distract me with your rhymes_

_La lullaby_

_La lullaby_

_Help me sleep tonight_

_La lullaby_

_(La lullaby, la lullaby)_

_I have to go (goodbye)_

_I have to go (lullaby)_

_I have to go (goodbye)_

_And leave you alone_

_But always know (goodbye)_

_Always know (brown eyes)_

_Always know (goodbye)_

_That I love you so_

_I love you so (goodbye lullaby)_

_I love you so, oh (goodbye)_

_I love you so (goodbye brown eyes)_

_I love you so (goodbye)_

_I love you so_

_I love you so_

_Goodbye brown eyes_

_Goodbye my love."_

I checked the casserole dish and was surprised to see Sunny was sleeping soundly. Now that I was alone, I continued to gaze up at the bright stars and thought about the conversation Sunny and I had had just now. I thought about Violet and Klaus. How I felt so alone now that I might have to live with these strange abilities without anyone to share them with.

I wished Klaus were here right now. And I didn't just want to see Klaus again because I had a crush on him. I missed my best friend too. I didn't realize how much I loved having a best friend until now. Carmelita always intimidated anyone who even tried to talk to me. I liked to have someone to share secrets with and reading was never the same without Klaus there. Never again could I read another book without shedding a tear.

I looked down at the blue flower in my hand; it was still fresh and breathing with life. Maybe Sunny was right. Perhaps I needed to have more faith in Violet and Klaus. I had to trust that they were coming. Afterall, they've never abandoned me before. Even if it weren't true. Even if they had died. I had to try and have faith that things would be okay. If I had to wait for a little bit for them to come save us, then so be it. I would wait. They will come. In the meantime, I would do whatever I could to protect Sunny.

I laid back down on the rock and continued to gaze at the stars above. I imagined that Klaus was now looking up at those same stars and that soothed me enough so that I eventually did doze off. It was a light doze. Dreamless.

* * *

><p><strong>The song was <em>Goodbye (Lullaby Version) by Avril Lavigne<em>. **

**Review! **


	15. The Miserable Meal

**Hey! Here's a new chapter! It took awhile because i've been SO busy with school :( Sorry about that**

**Anyways, Enjoy and R&R please!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: The Miserable Meal<strong>

The night had not been peaceful in the slightest. Sunny and I were both freezing cold and our teeth chattered loudly. It made me wish there were a blanket of some sort I could give to Sunny. If only the fur cuffs on my outfit could be ripped off and used as something more useful than a horrendous looking costume. Maybe I could change back into my regular clothes in the morning and somehow find a way to turn it into a blanket when Esmé wasn't looking.

The rock I laid on didn't help my comfort at all. It was rough and hard and at one point I nearly resorted to sleeping on the snowy ground instead until my ears nearly received frostbite. I knew I could easily go back inside my designated tent but of course, I could never leave Sunny to deal with the cold all by herself. Besides, I'd rather be outside than in that tent with the hook-handed man and Olaf's other scary and filthy associates.

Even in light dozes, I would dream about being locked in a freezer or trapped in some sort of ice age. After a while, I couldn't take it anymore and gave up on sleeping altogether. The sun had already risen by then but barely. I sat up and gazed at it thoughtfully.

It was then that I saw it. Up high in the sky, soaring above a cloud. The bird-like creature swooped down abruptly, and circled a little bit above my head. It was an owl I realized and in its talons, it carried a letter of some sort. It landed on the ground beside me and waited for me to take the envelope from it. This owl was a lot bigger than Spirit who was probably small for an owl. This one had black feathers and was stunning. It hooted and Sunny lifted the lid to see what was going on. She looked at the owl and her brown eyes widened.

"Hello," I said to the owl, "well, aren't you beautiful." The owl hooted, pleased by the compliment. "Thank you for the letter. I wish I had a treat or something to give you. However, I'm afraid I am not in the best circumstances." Seeing this owl brought a smile to my face because I was reminded of Spirit whom I missed terribly.

I picked up the envelope and it was made of the same yellow parchment as the last one. In fact, it was exactly the same except this time, the emerald ink addressed the letter to:

_ Miss J. Murray_

_ The Flat Rock_

_ Mount Fraught_

_ Mortmain Mountains_

_ United States_

"Adro?" Sunny asked. By that I think she meant, "Is it for you?"

I nodded and read the address aloud.

"I received one yesterday morning," I said, "but Esmé and Count Olaf found it and took it away before I could read it. There's no return address so I have no idea who it could be from. Let's open it before—"

"Before what?" a voice said from behind, making the two of us jump. The owl flapped its wings as it too was startled by that scratchy voice that could only mean one thing.

Instead, of trying to hide it because I knew that was useless as Olaf had already seen it, I held it more tightly to my chest. I wasn't letting go of it this time. Someone clearly needed to talk to me and I needed to find the answers to all of my questions.

Olaf noticed the owl and swung his foot out to kick it. "Get out of here at once!" he cried. The owl flapped its wings in fear and flew away, off into the distance.

"You didn't have to do that," I said, "that owl never did anything to you."

"I don't care," Olaf said and then glanced at the envelope in my hands. "What's this?" After a moment, his eyes widened, shining brightly the way they had the first time I received the letter. "How in the world did they find you?" he hissed. "Well, no matter. I'll dispose of it."

"No," I cried, clutching it tighter. I stood up and backed away. "It's not for you. It's mine and I intend to read it!"

"No you won't," Olaf growled, and reached out his hand to attempt to snatch it from my hands. But I jumped back and hid it behind my back.

"It's my letter," I said my voice shaking a bit. I tried to keep it steadier. "It's addressed to _me_."

"It's not for you to read," he said, growing angrier, "now give it to me!"

"Never!" I spat.

He snarled and grabbed for the envelope again. I tried to jump out of the way again, but unfortunately, having a lion costume on has many disadvantages, one of them being that I had a tail. So Olaf reached out to grab my tail so I couldn't move back any further. I held onto the envelope when he tried to snatch it though, resulting in a very strange game of tug of war. That was until Olaf heaved a kick at my stomach, forcing me to let go of the letter. I fell to the ground, landing on my butt and clutching my aching stomach. As I fell, my foot moved awkwardly and the heel of my right boot snapped. Esmé was not going to be happy about that.

"No!" I cried in frustration, ignoring the broken heel and reaching for the letter despite the pain in my gut. "Give it back! It's mine!"

"It's mine now," Olaf said mockingly, "I was in need of some good kindle for when I burn down V.F.D.'s headquarters." He waved the letter over my head, high enough so that I couldn't reach. "And another thing, I thought I told you to stay inside your tent yet you disobeyed me again, you nasty little girl."

I only glared at my hands, trying to keep my anger inside so I wouldn't cause more trouble for Sunny and I. Olaf looked like he was about to strike me and I raised my hands to protect my face.

"No hit!" Sunny cried and crawled out of her dish to put herself in front of me. By 'No hit', I think she meant, "Don't hurt her!"

Olaf looked at the youngest Baudelaire mockingly but lowered his hand. "I wasn't going to hurt her," he said, "I've already succeeded in that. Your poor bookworm boyfriend is now a corpse."

"You're wrong!" I blurted, rising to my feet. It was little difficult having one heel broken and I nearly fell over. I knew I shouldn't have said that aloud but it just came out.

Olaf's eyes were shiny again as he leaned his face close to mine, ignoring Sunny altogether who was barring her teeth. I could smell his atrocious breath as he said, "Oh, really?" I felt myself beginning to quiver from fear.

"He'll come back," I said quietly. "He wouldn't leave me here all alone. They wouldn't leave us."

There was a beat of silence and I found myself taking a step back, unsure of how he would react. Instead of getting angry, he began to laugh as if I had told a joke.

"That's ridiculous," he said between horrible bits of laughter. "No one, not even your bookwormed boyfriend and his sister could survive a fall down a mountain." He stopped laughing after a moment and then turned back to ordering us around again. "Enough talk," he said, "you two will be doing all the cooking and cleaning for us. Blondie may have messed it up the first time but I'm going to give you another chance. And you can start by making breakfast for us. We have a big day ahead of us, and a good breakfast will give me and my troupe the energy we need to perform unspeakable crimes."

"Plakna?" Sunny asked for the both of us. She meant something along the lines of, "How are we supposed to cook breakfast on the top of a freezing mountain?" but Olaf gave her a nasty smile.

"Too bad your brain isn't as big as your teeth, you little monkey," he said, "You're talking nonsense, as usual."

"Sunny meant 'how are we supposed to cook breakfast on the top of a freezing mountain?'" I translated, "And frankly, I agree. Unless you want to eat ice for breakfast."

"Well you already seem to have had experience," Olaf said to me, "so why don't you make a fire?"

"Again, I never set that fire," I said, "and another thing, that's not the same thing because I was in the middle of the woods where it's quite easy to set a fire. We're on top of a mountain with snow. I don't know much about setting fires but I do know that fire and ice don't mix very well."

"I don't care," Olaf said, "you can do strange things. Didn't you turn two girls' hair different colors?"

"I don't know how that happened," I said.

"Translo," Sunny added. By 'translo' she meant, "Also, just because you don't understand something doesn't mean that it's nonsense."

"There you go, babbling again," Olaf said and tossed the car keys to me. "Get the groceries out of the trunk of the car and get to work."

"Sneakitawc," Sunny said, which meant, "Of course, because you don't understand me, I can say anything I want to you, and you'll have no idea what I'm talking about." I pursed my lips to keep from letting Olaf see I was smiling.

"I'm getting quite tired of your ridiculous speech impediment," Count Olaf said.

"Brummel," Sunny said which was her way of saying, "In my opinion, you desperately need a bath, and your clothing is a shambles."

I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my giggles.

"Be quiet this instant," Olaf ordered.

"Busheney," Sunny said which meant, "You're an evil man with no concern for other people."

I giggled again much to Count Olaf's aggravation.

"Stop your laughing this instant!" He roared. "Shut up! Shut up and get cooking!"

I stopped laughing but couldn't stop smiling as Sunny and I made our way to the trunk of the car. I could see Sunny trying to hide her own smile and she had a spring in her step. I might have too, if I still had both heels.

However, both of our smiles faded once we set our eyes on the groceries inside the trunk.

"They're nearly frozen," I said to Sunny in despair. "It's bad enough that we have nothing to cook them with. Now we have no way of defrosting that loaf of bread. And look at that jug of orange juice. It's frozen solid."

I picked up the loaf of bread, which felt like a log. Sunny rummaged through the groceries and pulled out a jar of boysenberry jam.

"We'll just have to work with what we have, I guess," I said, "and you know, if they don't like it then whatever. I prepared roast beef for them once and Olaf still got mad."

"Hosa," Sunny asked, holding up a bag of coffee beans. By that she meant, "There's no way to grind these beans into tiny pieces to make coffee."

"And the only time cold coffee is good is in the summer," I said, "And there's no sugar to sweeten it."

"Wake up!" Count Olaf was calling through the door of one of the tents we had put together. "Wake up and get dressed for breakfast!"

"Can't we sleep ten minutes more?" the hook-handed man complained, "I was having a lovely dream about sneezing without covering my nose and mouth, and giving everybody germs."

"Well, while you were having your lovely dream," Olaf growled, "the blonde brat snuck out of the tent. Now get up, I have lots of work for you to do."

"But Olaf," Esmé said as she emerged from the tent she was sharing with Count Olaf. Her hair was in curlers similar to the ones she stuck in my hair and she was wearing a long robe with a pair of fuzzy slippers. I was a little glad that she had stopped making me be her Barbie doll. Though it would be nice to change out of this horrendous lion outfit. "I need a little while to choose what I'm going to wear. It's not in to burn down a headquarters without wearing a fashionable outfit…" she trailed off when she glanced at me and saw the broken heel. She gasped as if someone had died. "What have you done to your outfit?" she cried and stomped over to me.

"Olaf pushed me and it broke," I said quickly. I admit, I was a little scared of Esmé right now.

Olaf scowled. "That's because the orphan received another one of those letters."

Esmé gasped again. "How did they find her?" she hissed.

"Who's they?" I asked.

"None of your business," Esmé said and then grabbed my arm. "I'm taking the orphan inside to change out of that outfit before she does any further damage to it."

She pulled me along and I only had time to grab my bag before Esmé dragged me into her tent, which already smelled terrible. She yelled at me about how horrible it was to ruin an outfit that was so in and since I couldn't appreciate fashion then I wouldn't be allowed to wear any more in outfits. I had to hide my happiness and relief that I would never have to wear another one of those ridiculous outfits again.

"But I've decided to give you one last chance," Esmé said and held up a bright blue snowsuit similar to the one she was planning on wearing except this one was decorated with dozens of eyes. Each one stared at me with an unfriendly gaze as if they couldn't care less that I really did not want to wear it.

"Well, as much as I would love to wear that outfit," I said, "I just don't think this whole fashion thing is going to work. I'm just not that interested in fashion."

"Maybe not right now," Esmé said, "but somebody has to teach the morals of fashion."

"The morals of fashion?" I asked, "You mean something like whether you should wear real fur or not?"

"No, of course not!" Esmé said, "Fake fur is horribly unfashionable. The morals of fashion are knowing what is in and what is out!"

"Well, I'm not interested in the morals of fashion," I said, "I think I'll stick to my usual morals."

"You're just like your mother," Esmé grumbled, "It doesn't matter whether your interested or not. Put it on."

I really didn't want to, but I did want to wear something warmer than the outfit I wore now. Also, Esmé's face had turned red in frustration and it kind of scared me.

So I let Esmé put the snowsuit on along with a ghastly looking scarf. It was definitely too big and felt more like wearing a sleeping bag than an outfit.

When Esmé finished shoving the boots onto my feet I hurried out of the tent before she could make me put anything else on. Sunny was still at the trunk and I hurried over to her. She raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Esmé thinks that I have to be fashionable too since we're related," I said, "Ugh, why did my aunt have to be Esmé of all people? Anyways, what can I help with?"

Sunny explained in her usual way that her mother had once told her that the presentation of food was sometimes more important than the food itself. She showed me the contents of the picnic basket and I saw that it contained a set of elegant plates that each had an eye insignia on them as well as a small tea set.

Sunny, being more of an expert at cooking than I was, told me what to do. We worked together as Olaf and his associates chatted away as usual.

"I'll use these blankets for a tablecloth," I heard Olaf say in the tent. Sunny's teeth chattered.

"Good idea," Esmé replied. "It's very in to dine al fresco."

I handed Sunny the scarf that Esmé had wrapped around my neck. Sunny used it as a cloak, as it was too big to really fit around her neck. It helped a little for which I was glad.

"What does that mean?" Olaf asked.

"It means 'outside' of course," Esmé explained. "It's fashionable to eat your meals in the fresh air."

"I knew what it meant," Count Olaf replied. "I was just testing you."

I rolled my eyes as I listened and then struggled to open the jug of orange juice as Sunny used her teeth to grind the coffee beans.

"Hey boss," Hugo hollered from the other tent. "Colette won't share the dental floss."

"There's no reason to use dental floss," Count Olaf said, "unless you're trying to strangle someone with a very weak neck."

"Kevin, would you do me a favor?" the hook-handed man asked. "Will you help me comb my hair? These hooks can make it difficult sometimes."

"I'm jealous of your hooks," Kevin replied. "Having no hands is better than having two equally strong hands."

"Don't be ridiculous," one of the white-faced women replied. "Having a white face is worse than both of your situations."

"But you have a white face because you put makeup on," Colette said. "You're putting powder on your face right now."

"Must you bicker every single morning?" Count Olaf asked, and strode out of his tent carrying a blanket covered in images of eyes. "Somebody take this blanket and set the table over there on that flat rock."

Hugo walked out of the tent. "I'd be happy to," he said, smiling.

Esmé stepped outside at last. She wore a snowsuit similar to mine except it was bright red. She looped an arm around Olaf. "Fold the blanket into a large triangle," she said to Hugo, "That's the in way to do it."

"Yes ma'am," Hugo said, "and, if you don't mind my saying so, that's a very handsome snowsuit you are wearing."

Esmé turned all the way around and showed off her outfit. I noticed on the back the letter B was sewn along with the V.F.D. insignia. I craned my neck to see that there was the letter A sewn on the back of my snowsuit. There were eyes everywhere on my suit though. "I'm glad you like it, Hugo," Esmé said. "It's stolen."

Sunny and I exchanged glances. Both of us were wondering the same thing. Those letters couldn't be coincidences.

Olaf noticed us staring and stepped in front of Esmé. "What are you two staring at?" he asked. "Are you done making breakfast?"

"Almost," Sunny replied.

"That infant never makes any sense," Hugo said as we turned back to preparing the meal. "No wonder she fooled us into thinking she was a carnival freak."

Sunny sighed and I frowned. It wasn't that hard to understand what she was saying sometimes. She was getting closer to forming words.

It was my turn to gently pat Sunny's hand to comfort her. She gave me a small smile and continued to prepare the coffee while I finished warming up the bread by putting it down my snowsuit where it was quite warm. Then, I used a spoon to spread the boysenberry jam on each slice. Sunny suggested making it look like an eye to please them. I did as she said, though after everything they've done to us, I didn't really care so much about pleasing them.

"As great as the food looks," I said to Sunny, "I wish we weren't doing it for Olaf and his troupe. Like when I had to sing at the carnival. I hated it because I was doing it for people who were so unpleasant."

Sunny nodded. "Golat," she said meaning, "I don't like it either but I don't want to get into more trouble."

I sighed and helped Sunny bring the finished meal to where Hugo was laying the blanket. He had placed it on the flat rock that I had slept on last night and seeing it reminded me of how tired I was.

I set down the plates each with some sliced bread and jam and orange granita as Sunny called it. Sunny placed the cups with each plate. The cups were filled with iced coffee, which didn't look too bad. Finally, we finished by putting the vine bouquet that had been given to Esmé by Count Olaf in a small pitcher of the tea set used for cream. The ivy served as a centerpiece. As I looked over our work, or Sunny's work since most of it was her idea, I couldn't help but be a little proud.

"Wow," I said to Sunny, "that doesn't look so bad. Great job."

"Denra," Sunny said meaning, "Thanks but I couldn't have done it without your help."

Sunny and I shared a smile. The villains sat down on the tablecloth and looked at the food we had prepared. I noticed Sunny beam as she announced proudly, "Caffefredde, sorbet, toast tartar."

I couldn't help but grin. Sunny was so cute and very intelligent. She had grown so much since we first met. I may have helped out but it was mostly Sunny's culinary skills that made this meal so wonderful.

"What is this?" Count Olaf said suspiciously, peering into his coffee cup as if there was a fly in it. "It looks like coffee, but it's freezing cold!"

"And what is this orange stuff?" Esmé asked skeptically. "I want fashionable, in food, not a handful of ice!"

Colette picked up a piece of bread and looked at it uncertainly. "This toast feels raw," she said, "Is it safe to eat raw toast?"

"Of course not," Hugo said. "I bet that baby and the blonde orphan are trying to poison us."

"I think it's a great meal," I said, trying to defend Sunny's cooking skills. I placed my hands on my hips, "Either eat it or beat it."  
>Suddenly I was grabbed by the collar of my snowsuit and found myself face to face with Count Olaf who was now standing and looking very angry. "I'll show you what I'm going to do." He raised his hand and in one swift motion, his hand met my cheek.<p>

"Ow!" I cried.

"Actually, the coffee isn't bad," one of the white-faced woman said, "even if it is a little bitter. Could someone pass the sugar, please?"

"_Sugar?_" Count Olaf roared, erupting in anger like a time bomb that has just been set off. To say I was scared was an understatement. I was flung to the ground and then he grabbed one end of the blanket, and pulled as hard as he could, ruining all of our hard work. Sunny ducked as a fork flew past her and I rolled out of the way of a plate that fell.

"All the sugar in the world couldn't save this terrible breakfast!" he roared and then, leaned down so he was now face to face with Sunny. "I told you to make a nice breakfast, and you gave me cold, disgusting nonsense! Don't you see how high up we are, you sabertoothed papoose? If I threw you off Mount Fraught, you'd never survive!"

"Don't touch her!" I cried as I got up from the ground.

Olaf turned to me and I shuddered a bit under his angry stare. "And you," he said, "I could throw you off the mountain too!" He took a step towards me.

"Olaf!" Esmé cried. "I'm surprised at you! Surely you remember that we'll never get the Baudelaire or Murray fortunes if we toss Sunny and Jamie off the mountain. We have to keep them alive for the greater good."

"Yes, yes," Count Olaf said. "I remember. I'm not going to throw the orphans off the mountain. I just wanted to terrify them." He gave us both a cruel smirk and then addressed the hook-handed man. "Walk over to that frozen waterfall," he ordered, "and crack a hole in the ice with your hook. The stream is full of Stricken Salmon. Catch enough for all of us, and we'll have the orphans prepare us a proper meal."

"Good idea, Olaf," the hook-handed man said, standing up and walking over to the icy slope. "You're as smart as you are intelligent."

"Sakesushi," Sunny said quietly, meaning, "I don't think you'll enjoy salmon if it's not cooked."

"Stop your baby talk and wash these dishes," Olaf demanded, "They're covered in lousy food."

"You know, Olaf," the white-faced woman who had made the mistake of asking for sugar said, "it's none of my business, but we might put someone else in charge of cooking. It was probably difficult for them to prepare a hot breakfast without a fire."

"But there is a fire," a deep, low voice said. We all turned to see who had spoken.

Sunny and I gasped simultaneously. Suddenly, I found myself wishing I hadn't turned when I saw whom the visitors were. Even the villains were scared. Esmé was shivering in her snowsuit and the others looked at the snowy ground rather than at the two sinister visitors. One of them was a woman with hair but no beard and the other was a man with a beard but no hair.

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	16. The Snow Scouts

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Snow Scouts<strong>

"Go away, cakesniffers!" the voice hollered. "This is a private cave!"

"Who are you talking to, Carmelita?" the voice sounded like it belonged to an adult.

"I can see two shadows in the entrance of the cave, Uncle Bruce," the first voice, probably Carmelita. Carmelita Spats to be exact,"and to me they look like cakesniffers."

There were the sounds of snickering coming from the back of the cave. I remembered Carmelita Spats from our stay at Prufrock Preparatory School. I recalled how she would tease us by calling us names, and Jane had mentioned Carmelita had bullied her along with setting that fire that nearly killed her. It was very unpleasant to reencounter this girl who was always so nasty.

"Two shadows?" the man's voice asked. "Identify yourselves, please."

"We're mountain travelers," Violet replied. We lingered near the entrance, not wanting to be seen. "We lost our way and ran into a swarm of snow gnats. Please let us rest here for a moment, while the smell of the smoke scares them away, and then we'll be on our way."

"Absolutely not!" Carmelita called back. "This is where the Snow Scouts are camping, on their way to celebrate False Spring and crown me queen. We don't want any cakesniffers spoiling our fun."

"Now, now, Carmelita," the man said, "Snow Scouts are supposed to be accommodating, remember? It's part of the Snow Scout Alphabet Pledge. And it would be very accommodating of us to offer these strangers the shelter of the cave."

"I don't want to be accommodating," Carmelita said, "I'm the False Spring Queen, so I get to do whatever I want."

"You're not the False Spring Queen yet, Carmelita," a voice grumbled, sounding aggravated with Carmelita's nasty remarks. "We still have to dance around that Spring pole or whatever it's called."

"Yes," another scout said in a calm voice, "Do come in, travelers, and sit by the fire. We're happy to accommodate you."

"That's the spirit, kid," said the man, "Come on, Snow Scouts, let's all say the Snow Scout Alphabet Pledge together."

"Snow Scouts," the scouts began to recite, "are accommodating, basic, calm, darling, emblematic, frisky, grinning, human, innocent, jumping, kept, limited, meek, nap-loving, official, pretty, quarantined, recent, scheduled, tidy, understandable, victorious, wholesome, xylophone, young, and zippered—every morning, every afternoon, every night, and all day long!"

The pledge was very confusing. No one could be 'frisky' if they were 'calm'. Certainly the word 'quarantined' made no sense because they weren't confined to a room to prevent the spread of a deadly disease. An 'xylophone' was a musical object, not a descriptive word. It made my head hurt just thinking about it. I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to be those things 'all day long.'

At the end of the pledge, the scouts made a strange airy sound to imitate the wind.

"That's my favorite part," the man's voice said, "There's nothing like ending the Snow Scout Alphabet Pledge with a snowy sound. Now approach, travelers, so we can get a look at you."

"Let's keep the coat over our faces," I said to Violet in a whisper. "Carmelita might recognize us."

"And the other scouts have probably seen our pictures in The Daily Punctilio," Violet added. We ducked under the coat and moved further inside the cave.

A number of people sat around a campfire, looking curiously up at us. One of them was a man, probably Bruce. He wore a horrendous plaid coat and held a big cigar. On one end of the circle, someone had a thick wool sweater with many big pockets. He was sitting beside a girl wearing a charcoal trench coat done up most of the way and some equally dark pants. The other Snow Scouts wore matching uniforms. They consisted of white jackets with large zippers. There were snowflakes attached to it in all shapes and sizes on the sleeves, which were lengthy and puffy. The pledge was in large pink letters on the back of each uniform. White mittens covered their hands with an S on each one. They wore white headbands on their heads that had small plastic snowflakes sticking out of the top. The word "Brr!" was printed in arctic script. On their faces, they wore dark masks with small holes, completely concealed.

"You cakesniffers look ridiculous," Carmelita said and I immediately found where she was sitting. "Your faces are all covered up."

"We're meek," Violet said fast. "In fact, we're so meek that we hardly eveer show our faces."

"Then you'll fit in just fine," said Bruce, "The name's Bruce, but you can call me Uncle Bruce, although I'm almost certainly not your real uncle. Welcome to the Snow Scouts, travelers, where all of us are meek. In fact, we're accommodating, basic, calm…"

They launched into the pledge again and we waited for them to finished. The scout who wore a sweater rose. "We have some spare masks over there," he said in a hushed voice. He pointed to a huge pile of equipment beside a long wooden pole. "They'll keep the snow gnats away when you go back outside. Help yourself."

"Thank you," Violet said. We grabbed the masks and put them on, while still concealed underneath the coat so no one would see who we really were.

"That was fun, kids," Bruce said as the pledge ended with the snowy sound. "Now why don't you two join the Snow Scouts? We're an organization for young people to have fun and learn new things. Right now we're on a Snow Scout Hike. We're going to hike all the way up to Mount Fraught to celebrate False Spring."

"What's False Spring?" Violet asked as she sat down between the sweatered scout and I.

"Only a cakesniffer wouldn't know what False Spring is," Carmelita scoffed. "It's when the weather gets unusually warm before getting very cold again. We celebrate with a fancy dance where we spin around and around the Springpole." She gestured to the wooden pole. "When the dance is over, we choose the best Snow Scout and crown her the False Spring Queen. This time, it's me. In fact, it's always me."

"That's because Uncle Bruce is really your uncle," one of the Snow Scouts muttered.

"No, it's not," Carmelita argued, "It's because I'm the most accommodating, basic, calm, darling, emblematic, frisky, grinning, human, innocent, jumping, kept, limited, meek, nap-loving, official, pretty, quarantined, recent, scheduled, tidy, understandable, victorious, wholesome, xylophone, young, and zippered."

"How can anyone be 'xylophone'?" I couldn't stop myself from blurting. "It isn't even a descriptive word."

"Uncle Bruce couldn't come up with another word that started with an X," the scout wearing the wool sweater explained.

"How about 'xenial'?" I suggested. "It's a word that means—"

"You can't change the words of the Snow Scout Alphabet Pledge," Bruce interrupted. "The whole point of the Snow Scouts is that you do the same thing every time. We celebrate False Spring again and again, on Mount Fraught, at the source of the Stricken Stream. My niece Carmelita Spats is False Spring Queen, every time. And over and over, we rest in this same cave for Snow Scout Story Time."

"I read that the caves of the Mortmain Mountains contained hibernating animals," I said. "Are you sure it's safe to stop here?"

The sweatered scout opened his mouth to reply, but Bruce interrupted him. "It's safe now, kid," he said. "Years ago, apparently these mountains were crawling with bears. The bears were so intelligent that they were trained as soldiers. But they disappeared and no one knows why."

"Not bears," the scout who wore the sweater whispered. "Lions lived in these caves. And they weren't soldiers. The lions were detectives—volunteer feline detectives." He faced us along with the cloaked scout.

"Volunteer Feline Detectives," the scout in the dark trench coat said. I gasped and knew if their masks were off, they would be staring at us.

"Did you say—" Violet started but the two scouts shook their heads, warning us not to mention it now.

Could these scouts be trying to communicate with us secretly? Could it mean that they too knew of V.F.D. and could be members? Or was it all just a coincidence like Volunteers Fighting Disease?

"I don't know what you kids are muttering about," Bruce said, "but stop this instant. It's not time for conversation. It's the Snow Scout Story Time, when one Snow Scout tells a story to the other Snow Scouts. Then we'll all eat marshmallows until we feel sick and go to sleep on a heap of blankets, just like we do every year. Why don't our new scouts tell the first story?"

"I should tell the first story," Carmelita complained, "After all, I'm the False Spring Queen."

"But I'm sure the travelers will have a wonderful story to tell," the scout with the sweater said, "I'd love to hear a Very Fascinating Drama."

I noticed Violet tying her hair up in a ribbon and smiled. We were both trying to think of ways to communicate with these mysterious scouts.

"Stop sitting around, cakesniffers," Carmelita said, "If you're going to tell us a story, get started."

"I apologize for the delay," Violet said carefully. "It hasn't been a Very Fun Day, so it's difficult to come up with a good story."

"I didn't realize this was a sad occasion," said the scout with the charcoal trench coat.

"Oh, yes," I said, "All we've eaten today are some Vinegar-Flavored Doughnuts."

"And then we ran into some snow gnats," Violet continued, "They behaved like Violent Frozen Dragonflies."

"When they form an arrow," I said, "they're more like a Voracious Fierce Dragon."

"Or a Vain Fat Dictator, I imagine," the scout with the sweater said and nodded as if he understood.

"This is the most boring story I have ever heard," Carmelita Spats said, "Uncle Bruce, tell these two that they're both cakesniffers."

"Well, it wouldn't be very accommodating to say so," Bruce said, "but I must admit that the story you were telling was a little dull, kids. When the Snow Scouts tell stories, they skip everything boring and only tell the interesting parts. That way, the story can be as accommodating, basic, calm, darling, emblematic, frisky, grinning, human, innocent, jumping, kept, limited, meek, nap-loving, official, pretty, quarantined, recent, scheduled, tidy, understandable, victorious, wholesome, xylophone, young, and zippered as possible."

"I'll show these cakesniffers how to tell an interesting story," Carmelita said, "Once upon a time, I woke up and looked in the mirror, and there I saw the prettiest, smartest, most darling girl in the whole wide world. I put on a lovely pink dress to make myself look even prettier, and I skipped off to school where my teacher told me that I looked more adorable than anyone she had ever seen in her entire life, and she gave me a lollipop as a special present . . ."

Carmelita continued to tell her tedious story about how she was the prettiest, smartest, most darling girl in the whole world. I paid little attention, more interested in the two mysterious scouts. I barely paid attention as the scouts recited their pledge a few more times before we ate marshmallows. I didn't mind roasting marshmallows, however, knowing that Jane and Sunny were on top of this mountain somewhere, cold and hungry, made it difficult to enjoy them. Also, Violet and I had to turn away in order to hide our faces as we ate them, which was quite irksome. I would have preferred to have a more satisfying meal after our tiresome journey up the mountain that had only just begun.

I waited anxiously for the scouts to finish eating marshmallows and spread out blankets for us all to sleep on for the night. After several hours of struggling to stay awake, the Snow Scouts had all fallen asleep and the fire had died. Soon I began to grow tired of staying awake and was in about to fall asleep when I felt someone's hand on my shoulder. I sat up hurriedly and found myself staring at the masked faces of the two mysterious scouts.

"Come with us, Baudelaires," the girl with the trench coat said, "We know a shortcut to the headquarters."

I was filled with so many questions that I wasn't sure which one to ask first.

"How—" Violet began.

"Do—" I started, but I couldn't decide between asking "Do you know where Sunny and Jane are?" and the question "Do you know if one of our parents is alive?" But that question conflicted with the question of "How can we get to the headquarters?" I was also urging to ask "Will my sisters, Jane, and I ever find a safe place to live without constantly being threatened by Count Olaf and his troupe as they hatch plan after plan to steal the Baudelaire fortune?" Though I couldn't imagine if these scouts even knew the answer to that.

"I'm sure you have lots of questions," the boy murmured, "but we can't talk here. Bruce is a light sleeper, and he's caused V.F.D. enough trouble already without learning another of our secrets. I promise all your questions will be answered, but first we've got to get to the headquarters. Follow us."

The scouts turned and I noticed that they both wore backpacks inscribed with none other than the insignia of V.F.D. We quietly followed them to the back of the cave rather than the entrance. The pile of ashes where the fire had been was before us. We could still smell the smoke. The sweatered scout removed a flashlight from his pocket. "We had to wait for the fire to die down before we showed you," the girl said. The sweatered scout gave the unconscious scouts a nervous look. He shone the flashlight at where the ceiling of the cave was. However, there was a gaping hole in it where the smoke disappeared through.

"A chimney," I said, gazing up at it thoughtfully, "I was wondering why the fire didn't fill the cave with smoke."

"The official name is Vertical Flames Diversion," the scout with the sweater said. "It serves as a chimney and as a secret passageway. It runs from this cave to the Valley of Four Drafts. If we climb up there, we can reach headquarters within hours, instead of hiking all the way up the mountain. Years ago, there was a metal pole that ran down the center of the hole, so people could slide down and hide in this cave in case of an emergency. The pole is gone now, but there should be carved toeholds in the sides to climb all the way up." The sweatered scout moved the flashlight to direct it on the cave's wall so we could see the two rows of small, carved holes.

"How do you know all this?" Violet asked.

The boy exchanged glances with the scout with the trench coat. I couldn't know for sure, but it looked as if they were smiling behind their masks. "I read it," the boy said, "we both did. In a book called _Remarkable Phenomena of the Mortmain Mountains_."

"That sounds familiar," I said, furrowing my eyebrows as I recalled seeing a book with a similar title.

"It should," the girl replied, "he borrowed it from Dr. Montgomery's library. When we met, we discovered that we both knew of the secret headquarters. He lent me the book to read during the nights we spent as scouts. Thank goodness too. Reading that book made Carmelita's irritating stories easier to bear."

At the mention of Dr. Montgomery, my eyes widened. That was the name of our second guardian, after Count Olaf. To hear these two scouts mention his name made my head swarm with a thousand more questions.

"When—" Violet began.

"Why—" I started.

"Carm—"

The sound of Bruce's voice caused us to freeze for a few minutes until he turned over on his blanket to continue sleeping.

"We can discuss this further when we reach the headquarters," the sweatered scout said in a quiet voice. "The Vertical Flame Diversion is very echoey, so we'll have to be absolutely silent as we climb, or the echoing noise will alert Bruce and the Snow Scouts. It'll be very dark inside, so you'll have to feel against the wall for the footholds, and the air will be smoky, but if you keep your masks on they'll filter the air and make it easier to breathe. I'll go first and lead the way. Are you ready?"

I looked at Violet, a little uncertain. After all, these two scouts were complete strangers. We didn't know them and they could be dangerous. The last time we took this risk, Jane and Sunny were stolen away from us. Could we trust them? These masked figures who were so mysterious. What would happen this time?

"I know it must be hard to trust us, Baudelaires," the scout with the trench coat said, "after so many people have done you wrong."

"Can you give us a reason to trust you?" Violet said.

The scouts exchanged glances again. "One of you mentioned the word 'xenial'," the boy said, "when you were talking with Bruce about that silly pledge. 'Xenial' is a word which refers to the giving of gifts to a stranger."

"He's right," I said to Violet.

"I know that having a good vocabulary doesn't guarantee that I'm a good person," the boy continued, "But it does mean I've read a great deal and she has too." He gestured to the girl with the trench coat. "And in my experience, well-read people are less likely to be evil."

Violet and I exchanged looks again. I knew that it wasn't entirely convincing. However, I preferred to take a risk with someone who knew what xenial meant and was well-read.

We nodded and followed the two scouts to the footholds. We began the climb, to the top where we entered the passageway. The sweatered scout was right about it being very dark and smoky. I had to keep my eyes on the cloak of the girl to find my way through. I struggled to breathe through the smoky air from the fire. I had to try not to cough in order to not attract the attention of the sleeping Snow Scouts or Bruce. My hand was still hurting from the spider bite I received while using the footholds and a gust of icy wind blew through the passageway. The long, tedious journey through the Vertical Flame Diversion proved to be almost as miserable as the time we climbed down that elevator shaft at 667 Dark Avenue. I let my thoughts drift to that time when we were trying to rescue the Quagmires and Jane from that cage at the bottom of the shaft. I remembered climbing down it for the last time only to find the same cage that was completely empty.

Could it be true that one of our parents were hiding out at the secret headquarters? What if it was all another misguidance? What if we got there only to find that there really wasn't a survivor? Or what if we were too late to save Sunny and Jane from Olaf's clutches?

So many terrible things have happened to us. We've taken so many risks and been mislead too many times. It seemed almost inevitable that more misery lied ahead. But I had to hold on to the fact that one of our parents may in fact have survived. I had to believe that there was a way and we had to take these risks no matter where we were led. Right now, the road less traveled seemed like the only way to go.

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	17. The Sinister Duo

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: The Sinister Duo<strong>

**(Jane Rumary)**

"It's good to see you, Olaf," the deep voice said again and I discovered it had come from the woman. She wore a suit made of odd blue fabric that was very shiny and had two big pads, one on each shoulder. She was pulling along a wooden toboggan that scrapped against the ground. "I was worried that the authorities might have captured you."

"You look well," the man with the beard but no hair said. He was dressed exactly like the woman with hair but no beard. His voice was very raspy. "It's been a long time since we've laid eyes on one another."

The man grinned at Olaf and I shuddered. He stopped and helped the woman prop the toboggan against the rock where breakfast had been served. The toboggan had a few long leather straps, probably used for steering. It was painted with the familiar eye insignia.

Count Olaf uttered a cough before he spoke. "Hello," he said sounding a bit nervous. "Did I hear you say something about a fire?"

The pair glanced at each other and began to laugh. Sunny covered her ears and after a moment I couldn't take it and did the same.

"Haven't you noticed," the woman said, "that there are no snow gnats around?"

"We had noticed that," Esmé said, "I thought maybe snow gnats were no longer in."

"Don't be ridiculous, Esmé," the man with a beard but no hair said. He reached out and kissed Esmé's hand, which was trembling. "The gnats aren't around because they can smell the smoke."

"I don't smell anything," Hugo said.

"Well, if you were a tiny insect, you'd smell something," the woman replied, "If you were a snow gnat, you'd smell the smoke from V.F.D. headquarters."

"We did you a favor, Olaf," the man said. "We burned the entire place down."

"No!" Sunny and I cried at the same time.

By no, Sunny meant something like, "I certainly hope that isn't true, because my siblings and I hoped to reach V.F.D. headquarters, solve mysteries that surround us, and perhaps find one of our parents."

Neither of us had meant to say it aloud and the sinister duo looked down at us, making me begin to shudder uncontrollably. Their gaze fell to Sunny first and I took a tiny step closer to her just in case we had to make a run for it.

"What is that?" the man with the beard but no hair asked as he looked at Sunny.

"That's the youngest Baudelaire," Esmé replied and I noticed her take a small step in front of me. "We've eliminated the other two, but we're keeping this one around to do our bidding until we can finally steal the fortune."

"Infant servants are so troublesome," she said. "I had an infant servant once—a long time ago, before the schism."

"Before the schism?" Olaf said. Sunny looked confused and I wished I could tell her what a schism was without drawing attention to myself. I didn't know much about schisms but I remembered learning about the schism of the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches in school so I had an idea of what it meant. I also read about it during one of my times in the school's library. It wasn't a very nice library and the librarian was a little bitter so I only really went there to escape from Carmelita and her nonsense. "That is a long time ago. That infant must be all grown up by now."

"Not necessarily," the woman said, and laughed again as the man leaned down to gaze at Sunny. I took another step closer to Sunny, feeling uneasy with that man being so close.

"So this is Sunny Baudelaire," he said, "Well, well, well. I've heard so much about this little orphan. She's caused almost as many problems as her parents did." He straightened and looked around at Olaf and his troupe. "But we know how to solve problems, don't we? Fire can solve any problem in the world."

He started to laugh again. The woman joined in along with Count Olaf and his troupe.

"Oh, it was wonderful," the woman with hair but no beard said. "First we burned down the kitchen. Then we burned down the dining room. then we burned down the parlor, and then the disguise center, the movie room, and the stables. Then we moved on to the gymnasium and the training center, and the garage and all six of the laboratories. We burned down the dormitories and schoolrooms, the lounge, the theater, and the music room, as well as the museum and the ice cream shop. Then we burned down the rehearsal studios and the testing centers and the swimming pool, which was very hard to burn down. Then we burned down all the bathrooms, and then finally, we burned down the V.F.D. library last night. That was my favorite part—books and books and books, all turned to ashes so no one could read them. you should have been there, Olaf! Every morning we lit fires and every evening we celebrated with a bottle of wine and some finger puppets. We've been wearing these fireproof suits for almost a month. It's been a marvelous time."

Hearing them talk about burning down what seemed like a wonderful place upset me, particularly the library with all of its secrets.

"Why did you burn it down gradually?" Count Olaf asked, "Whenever I burn something down, I do it all at once."

"We couldn't have burned down the entire headquarters at once," the man with a beard but no hair said. "Someone would have spotted us. Remember, where there's smoke there's fire."

"But if you burned the headquarters down room by room," Esmé said, "didn't all of the volunteers escape?"

"They were gone already," the man said and scratched his bald spot. "The entire headquarters were deserted. It was as if they knew we were coming. Oh well, you can't win them all."  
>"Maybe we'll find some of them when we burn down the carnival," the woman said.<p>

"Carnival?" Olaf asked nervously.

"Yes," the woman said, and scratched her chin. "There's an important piece of evidence that V.F.D. has kept hidden in a figurine sold at Caligari Carnival, so we need to go burn it down."

My eyes widened. Could that figurine be the one I had in my bag—the one that contained special V.F.D. evidence? What if it was the evidence we were looking for to send Count Olaf to jail? Now I had to keep it extra safe.

"I burned it down already," Count Olaf said.

"The whole place?" the woman said in shock.

"The whole place," Count Olaf said and smiled nervously.

"Congratulations," she said in a deep purr. "You're better than I thought, Olaf."

"Well it's all for the greater good," Olaf said, looking a little relieved.

"As a reward," the woman said, "I have a gift for you, Olaf." The woman reached into her pocket and withdrew a stack of paper, tied together with thick rope. The paper looked very old and worn. Count Olaf's eyes grew very wide and very shiny. He reached for the stack of paper greedily.

"The Snicket file!" he said in a hushed whisper.  
>"No!" I blurted in despair.<p>

Now all eyes were drawn to me.

"Who's that?" the man with a beard but no hair said when they ceased their laughter. I shuddered when I saw him looking at me now. "Is that another Baudelaire?"

"No, the older Baudelaires perished. This is Jane Rumary," Olaf said, using my alias for some reason, "the other orphan."

"I know who she is," the woman said in her deep voice, gazing down at me with an icy glare that made me want to bury myself in a pillow to escape. The corners of her lips turned up in a smirk, "and I suppose she hasn't forgotten who I am either. Have you, Jane?"

I gazed up at her despite my desire to look down. At first, I hadn't recognized her because her hair was darker and wild. Her eyes were hard and cold, giving me a feeling like she was Medusa and I was the paralyzed victim. However, those dark eyes that used to twinkle with sweetness, combined with honey blond hair, perhaps a wig, and kind smile were vaguely familiar. But this person now, who I had once thought to be kind, had changed drastically. It was as if that person had died; leaving behind a cold, empty shell instead. I remembered that saying about how appearances could be deceptive and this rung true for this woman.

"Mrs. Marshall," I said with a gasp. The former headmistress of the Ontario Boarding School for Girls gave me a wicked grin.

"Not any longer, Jane," she said, her deep voice lacking any sort of sweetness it had carried back then. "I was the headmistress at that horrible boarding school for quite sometime, but it was only temporary."

Now that I knew it was all just a lie, I admit it stung a bit. Like that time I had thought Esmé was a good person until she helped Olaf trap me in that cage at the bottom of the elevator shaft. Now I couldn't help the feeling of déjà vu as I came to discover that this woman was nothing but another liar.

Count Olaf and Esmé looked puzzled as they looked back and forth between us. Obviously they hadn't been informed of this.

"What were you doing there?" Count Olaf asked.

"My comrade and I did a little research," she said, "we found out that Miss little Jane Rumary isn't at all who she says she is. Before that first headmistress resigned due to severe circumstances, I forced the truth out of her. That's right, this girl is the infamous Jamie Murray."

Count Olaf and Esmé made airy sounds like gasps. Though I knew they were fake.

"Impossible," Esmé said, "I thought she perished in the same fire that killed Abigail."

"Don't be ridiculous, Esmé," the man with a beard but no hair said, "Don't you see the resemblance? That stupid woman thought she could hide her away from all the world's treacheries. But she didn't realize that one way or another it would find its way back to the girl at some point."

I frowned. It was bad enough that these people had lied to me, burned down the V.F.D. headquarters, and stole the Snicket file, but now they were insulting my parents.

"W-what do you mean?" Esmé asked.

"She was left on the doorstep of the school," said the woman, "with this note." She dug into the pocket of her suit and pulled out a white sheet of paper that looked old, worn and dirty. Count Olaf's eyes grew shiny as he looked at it as if it were my fortune itself. "I thought I'd keep it to give to you the next time we crossed paths."

She handed it to Olaf, who immediately stuck it in his pocket to probably read later.

"What does it say?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.

"That's not important for you to know," the woman said, "but it's what led me to figure out that Abigail was keeping you hidden from all of us. I don't think she told a single soul, or at least she never got the chance." She glanced at the man with a beard but no hair and they exchanged cruel grins. "When I found out who the girl really was, I didn't hesitate to make myself headmistress there. I decided to wait until she was older to finish her off. And I almost did."

"What are you talking about?" I said, puzzled, "I don't remember you doing anything to hurt me."

"Who do you think gave that carrot-headed girl the idea to push you into that lake?" she sneered.

I remembered the event she was recalling. I didn't like to admit it, but I've never really learned how to swim. Carmelita found out and decided to push me in the lake we saw while on a school camping trip. I nearly drowned, but one of those Matilda instances occurred where the tiny waves turned into giant ones that pushed me safely to the shore.

My eyes widened and that only made the woman give me a nasty look.

"And who do you think convinced her to lock you in that shed?" she added, her eyes leering at me.

I gasped, my eyes widening even more. "Y-you set that fire," I said.

The woman laughed and I felt chills run up my spine. "You nearly died too, just like that whore who gave birth to you."

Her words were like venom.

"Don't talk about my mother like that," I said, gritting my teeth. I knew it wouldn't be wise to mess with them and being angry with them wouldn't do much, but I couldn't bear to hear anyone say anything so terrible about my parents.

"I'll say whatever I want about your parents," she countered, "They caused even more trouble than the Baudelaire parents did. She looks just like Abigail, doesn't she?" She looked at Olaf and Esmé.

"Yes," Olaf agreed, "I thought I recognized her from the moment I first laid eyes on her. Of course, she was hiding under a different name so I couldn't be sure."

"As we all are at some point," the man with a beard but no hair added with a laugh.

"Though she clearly hasn't inherited any of my qualities," Esmé said, "she's a bit of a disappointment as she has no fashion sense. I've tried to convince her that crime is in many times but she still won't take my advice. She's as stubborn as her stupid father."

"Don't say that," I said.

"Quiet, orphan," Olaf said, "the adults are trying to have a conversation."

"Speaking of troublemakers," the man said, "Have you seen a particularly nasty girl sneaking around by the name of Melissa Sampson?"

Olaf frowned in confusion. "Who?"

"That girl with dark hair who took the blame for pushing me down those stairs," I said as I remembered her. She had been Violet's roommate and caused a lot of trouble because she wasn't particularly nice. Well, at least not at first. I remembered how she had helped me wash off that horrid looking makeup and cheered me up a bit. I hoped wherever she as, she was all right.

"_That_ girl," Olaf said, "Yes I did. She was the one who tried to steal the Murray file from my office while we were staying at Heimlich Hospital."

My eyes widened and I glanced at Sunny who wore a similar expression of surprise.

"Well that same thief has also stolen something from me," the man with a beard but no hair said.

"But there's no need to worry," Olaf said, "I made sure she died in the fire that destroyed Heimlich Hospital. I intended to destroy the file anyways, though it's a shame I never had the chance to finish reading it. Whatever she stole from you probably burned too, I'm afraid. What was it?"

So she had been at Heimlich Hospital! She was probably the one who had impersonated Babs. But Olaf caught her and she had died in that horrible fire. Oh, how horrible! If only I knew, I would have tried to save her.

"Not here," the man said.

"Of course," Olaf said, "We can discuss that in private after I have read the Snicket file. I'm going to read it right now."

"We'll all read it together," said the woman with hair but no beard. "It contains secrets we all ought to know."

"But first I have a gift for your girlfriend," the man with a beard but no hair said.

"For me?" Esmé asked.

"I found these in one of the rooms of headquarters," the man said, "I've never seen one before, but it has been quite some time since I was a volunteer." He gave Esmé a sly smile as he removed a small green tube from his pocket.

"What's that?" Esmé asked.

"I think it's a cigarette," said the man with a beard but no hair.

"A cigarette!" Esmé said with a large smile. "How in!"

"I thought you'd enjoy them," said the man. "Here, try it. I happen to have quite a few matches right here."

He struck a match and lit the green cigarette on one end. He gave it to Esmé who held it to her mouth. A horrible smell came from it, filling the air, and she started to cough.

"What's the matter?" the woman asked. "I though you enjoyed in items."

"I do," Esmé said, and coughed some more. It made me think of Mr. Poe as she endlessly coughed, dropping the green tube-like thing to the ground. Dark green smoke wafted from it. "I love cigarettes," she explained, "but I prefer to smoke them with a long holder because I don't like the smell or taste and because they're very bad for you."

"Never mind that now," Count Olaf said, sounding impatient, "Let's go into my tent and read the file." He began to head in the direction of the tent but stopped to glare at his associates who had begun to follow. "The rest of you stay out here," he said, "There are secrets in this file that I do not want you to know."

The sinister duo laughed again as they followed Count Olaf and Esmé into the tent, leaving the rest of us waiting for the aura of menace to fade.

"Who were those people?" asked the hook-handed man. I looked to see that he had caught eight salmon, four on each hook.

"I don't know," one of the white-faced woman said, "but they made me feel very nervous."

"If they're friends of Count Olaf's," said Kevin, "how bad could they be?"

The associates exchanged glances but his question was answered only by silence. "What did that man mean when he said 'where there's smoke there's fire'?" Hugo asked.

"I have no idea," Colette said, contorting her body into a curvy shape as the wind blew.

"Don't worry about those questions," the hook-handed man said, "My question is, how are you going to prepare this salmon, orphans?"

He looked from Sunny to me. I glanced at Sunny and could tell she was thinking what I was. That phrase 'Where there's smoke there's fire' was stuck in my head and it was all I could think about. It was Sunny who answered and as she did, I realized exactly what her plan was.

"Answer me," the hook-handed man said with a growl, "What are you going to make for us out of this salmon?"

"Lox!" she said and I smiled, as this invention might be the key to our rescue.

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	18. VFD Headquarters

**R&R please and ENJOY! :)**

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><p>We reached the end of the Vertical Flame Diversion and out of the secret passageway.<p>

"That's where the smoke escapes from the Snow Scouts' fire," the mysterious girl said I a whisper, gesturing to the ceiling above. That leads to the very center of the Valley of Four Drafts, so the smoke is scattered to the four winds. V.F.D. doesn't want anyone to see the smoke."

"Where there's smoke," said Violet, "there's fire."

"That's right," said the sweatered scout. "If anyone saw smoke coming from so high up in the mountains, they would probably become suspicious and want to investigate. Actually, I found a device that works exactly according to this principle." He removed a small rectangular box from his backpack that contained strange green tubes.

"No thank you," Violet said, "I don't smoke."

"We don't either," the girl said, "They're actually Verdant Flammable Devices. Verdant means 'green' so if you light one, a dark green smoke comes out to signal another volunteer of your location."

I took the box from the sweatered scout and examined it. The devices looked familiar and I dimly recalled seeing them in my father's desk. "I've seen a box like this before," I said, voicing my thoughts aloud, "in my father's desk, when I was looking for a letter opener. I remember thinking it was strange to find them, because he didn't smoke."

"He must have been hiding them," Violet said, "Why was he keeping them a secret?"

"The entire organization is a secret," the sweatered scout said, "It was very difficult for me to discover the whereabouts of the headquarters."

"It was hard for us too," I said, "We found it in a coded map."

"I had to draw my own map," said the sweatered scout. He removed a notebook with a dark purple cover from his sweater pocket. He turned the flashlight on and directed it so we could see it in the darkness. The notebook reminded me of the notebooks that Jane and the Quagmires had carried.

"What's that?" Violet asked.

"It's a commonplace book," said the sweatered scout. "For whenever I discover something important or interesting. I write it down in here to keep all important information in one place."

"I've got one too," the girl said, pulling out a similar notebook that had a dark red cover. "Though I don't draw maps like he does."

"I should start one," I said, "My pockets are filled with scraps of paper."

"From information I read in Dr. Montgomery's book, and several others," said the sweatered scout, "I managed to draw a map of where to go from here." He opened the notebook to a tiny but neat map of the cave, the Vertical Flame Diversion, as well as the hallway where we were standing at the moment. "As you can see," he said, "the passageway branches off in two directions."

"This is a very well-drawn map," Violet said.

"I know," the girl said, "if we hadn't crossed paths, I may never have found my way to the Mortmain Mountains."

"Thank you," the sweatered scout replied, "I've been interested in cartography for quite a while. Now, if we head to the left, there's a small storage area used for sled and snowsuit storage, at least according to this newspaper article I found. However, going right would take us to the Vernacularly Fastened Door that opens onto the kitchen. We may walk in on the whole organization having breakfast."

I glanced at Violet, knowing she was thinking about the possibility of one of our parents being there. Violet put a hand on my shoulder. "Let's go," she said.

The scouts nodded and began to lead us down the hallway. We were silent as the corridors gave us a feeling that they held many secrets. We reached the end of the hallway where there was a big metal door. However, a curious device perched on the location of where the doorknob should be, with curly wires sticking out in multiple directions. There was the keyboard of a typewriter attached to the top. Violet leaned closer to examine it.

"Wait," the sweatered scout said, sticking his arm out to stop her. "This lock is coded. If we don't operate it properly, we won't be able to get into the headquarters."

"How does it work?" She said.

"I'm not sure," the sweatered scout admitted and took out his commonplace book once more. "It's called the Vernacularly Fastened Door so—"

"So it operates on language," I finished. "Vernacular means 'a local language or dialect.'"

"Of course," Violet said. "Notice how those wires are curled around the hinges of the door? They're locked in place so it won't unlock unless the correct sequence of letters are typed into the keyboard. There appears to be more letters than numbers, so it would be more difficult for someone to guess the combination of the lock."

"That's what the book said," the girl said, "There are usually three specific phrases that you have to type in. They change every season, so volunteers have a lot of information at their fingertips to use this door." She opened her notebook. "The first phrase is the name of the scientist most widely credited with the discovery of gravity."

"That's simple," said Violet, and typed in Sir Isaac Newton. The machine made a strange clicking sound as if it were warming up.

"The second is the Latin name for the Volunteer Feline Detectives," said the sweatered scout. "We found that answer in _Remarkable Phenomena of the Mortmain Mountains._ It's _Panthera leo._" He typed it in and there was a buzzing sound as the wires began to tremble.

"It's starting to unlock," Violet said, "I hope I have the chance to study this invention."

"Let's get to the headquarters first," I said. "What's the third phrase?"

The scouts exchanged glances and frowned. The trenchcoated scout looked back at her notebook. "Neither of us are sure of the answer," the girl said, "He said that a volunteer told him that it's the central theme of Leo Tolstoy's novel _Anna Karenina_, but neither of us have had a chance to read it yet."

I beamed when I heard the title of the book. I remembered one summer that my mother had selected _Anna Karenina_ to read. She let me sit on her lap and listen to her read. I was quite young at the time so my mother had to explain the meanings of some of the big words and what was happening in the story. I recalled the story was about a woman named Anna Karenina who's in an unhappy marriage. Her daring for an impulsive life leads her to fall in love with a young officer named Vronsky. However, her love affair only brings her more despair as Vronsky treats her horribly and begins to lose interest. Filled with misery over the abandonment of her son and her jealousy of Vronsky, she commits suicide by throwing herself under a train. There was also another couple, Kitty and Levin whose simple love life provide a contrast and further define the central theme of the book.

"The central theme of _Anna Karenina_," I said, "is that a rural life of moral simplicity, despite its monotony, is the preferable personal narrative to a daring life of impulsive passion, which only leads to tragedy."

"That's a very long theme," said the girl.

"It's a very long book," I replied. "But I can work fast. My sisters and I once tapped out a long telegram in no time at all."

The girl muttered something to the sweatered scout that was inaudible but I was already typing in the answer to phrase three. It shook even harder with every word I typed in. At last, I typed in 'tragedy' and everything stopped.

"It's not opening," Violet said, "Maybe that isn't the central theme of Leo Tolstoy's _Anna Karenina_."

"It seemed like it was working until the last word," said the sweatered scout.

"Maybe the mechanism is a little stuck," said Violet.

"Or perhaps a daring life of impulsive passion only leads to something else," the sweatered scout said.

It was a moment before the door swung open and we stepped through. I squinted in the sudden brightness and stopped in my tracks.

The sight of the headquarters was so horrible that I could nothing but stare. The place where the kitchen was supposed to be was charred remains. Silverware was scattered in front of the stove, which was now in ruins. Off to the side was a refrigerator and on one side was a stack of burnt wood that must have been a dining table. A half-melted candelabra sticking out of the top like a baby tree. Some other objects lay the pendulum of a grandfather clock, what looked like a periscope, or a spyglass, a trombone, an ice cream scoop, lying forlornly in a pile of ashes encrusted with burnt sugar, and an iron archway emblazoned with the words "V.F.D. Library".

This was the worst sight. The library—every book filled with pages containing all kinds of information, destroyed and in ashes all over the floor. It felt as though I were in a world in ruins—all alone in this horrible world that had gone up in flames. The fire had not defiled a slick, white wall beyond the fridge and I realized that it was really a frozen waterfall that came from the source of the Stricken Stream. In comparison, the headquarters looked even gloomier.

"It must have been beautiful," the girl said, her voice shaking slightly.

The sweatered scout walked toward the waterfall. "I read that there was a large window," he said, moving his hand in the air as if the window were still there. "When it was your turn to cook, you could look out at the waterfall while you were chopping vegetables or simmering sauce. It was supposed to be very peaceful. And there was a mechanism just outside the window that turned some of the water from the pool into steam. The steam rose up and covered the headquarters, so it couldn't be seen through the blanket of mist."

Violet, the girl, and I followed the sweatered scout to where he stood. There was a frozen pool at the bottom of the waterfall that branched off into two tributaries down the Mortmain Mountains. I noticed the same blackness from the Stricken Stream.

"It was ashes," I said softly, "Ashes from the fire fell into the pool at the bottom of the waterfall, and the stream carried them down the river."

"But the pool is frozen solid," Violet said. "The stream couldn't have carried the ashes anywhere."

"It wouldn't have been frozen when it happened," Klaus replied, "the heat from the fire would have thawed the pool."

"It must have been awful to see," the girl said sadly.

I imagined the enormous fire that must have destroyed this place from the kitchen to the library. I felt terrible for the people who must have been around to see it.

"Do you think," Violet said, "any of the volunteers…"

"There's no sign that anyone was here," the sweatered scout said quickly.

"But how can we know for sure?" I asked. "There could be a survivor someplace right now."

"_Hello?_" Violet called, looking around. "_Hello?_"

I listened to her call for them—for our parents. I couldn't stop my eyes from filling with tears because I knew in my heart that they weren't here. I think I had known all along that it was all a lie. It just seemed impossible. How could they both be dead? Why weren't they coming for us? Who was the survivor of the fire?

"_Mother!_" Violet called. "_Father!_"

There was nothing but silence.

"_Mom!_" I called desperately, "_Dad!_"

There was no sound except the noise of the Vernacularly Fastened Door blowing shut. The door was created to appear as though it were the side of the mountain. I could no longer see where we had come from and that only made me feel even more alone.

"I know we were all hoping to find people at the headquarters," the sweatered scout said, softly, "but I don't think anyone is here. I think we're all by ourselves."

"That's impossible!" I cried, tears pouring down my face. I removed page thirteen from my pocket but I didn't need to look at it to remember what it said. "Because of the evidence discussed on page nine," I recited, "experts now suspect that there may in fact be one survivor of the fire, but the survivor's whereabouts are unknown." I moved to the sweatered scout and shook the page in his face. "We thought the survivor would be here."

"I think the survivor is here," the girl said glancing at the sweatered scout who began to remove his mask.

"I'm Quigley Quagmire," he said, "I survived the fire that destroyed my home, and I was hoping to find my brother and sister."

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**I'll introduce the trenchcoated scout probably next chapter which should be up very soon!**


	19. The Survivors

**new chapter! I uploaded quicker than i thought and it's very long so Enjoy and of course Review! :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight: The Survivors<strong>

Violet and I stared in shock at the boy who looked so much like his siblings. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was dreaming. But the boy still stood before us. Quigley Quagmire.

"You're dead," Violet said, taking off her mask.

"You perished in a fire along with your parents," Klaus said, taking off my own mask.

"No," Quigley said, "I survived, and I've been looking for my siblings ever since."

"But how did you survive?" Violet asked. "Duncan and Isadora said that the house burned to the ground."

"It did," Quigley said glumly. He glanced at the girl who still had not revealed herself. The girl reached up to take off her mask too, revealing her ashen face and azure blue eyes. She had raven black hair pulled back into a ponytail that she took out, letting it fell to her waist like a curtain and in front of her piercing eyes, making them look even darker. I felt like I recognized her but it was Violet who gasped.

"Hey Violet," the girl said.

"Melissa," Violet said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"You're not the only ones looking for someone," she said then she lowered her voice. "Actually, I was looking for my father."

"I thought your parents died in a fire too," Violet said.

"Not them," Melissa said. "You're forgetting I'm adopted. I'm looking for my _biological_ father. But if we're going to start sharing stories, Quigley should start first. I'll fill in any gaps as we go along."

We looked at Quigley who staring at the waterfall and then, sighed heavily. "I suppose I should start at the beginning. I was in my family's library studying a map of the Finite Forest, when I heard a shattering of glass, and people shouting. My mother ran into the room and said there was a fire. We tried to go out the front door but the main hall was filled with smoke so she took me back into the library and lifted a corner of the rug. There was a secret door underneath. She told me to wait down below while she fetched my siblings, and she left me there in the dark. I remember hearing the house falling to pieces above me, and the sound of frantic footsteps, and my siblings screaming." He let go of his mask and it fell on the ground. He looked at us now. "But she never came back," he said, "Nobody came back, and when I tried to open the door, something had fallen on top of it and it wouldn't budge."

"How did you get out?" I asked.

"I walked," he said. "When it became clear that no one was going to rescue me, I felt around in the dark and realized I was in a sort of passageway. There was nowhere else to go, so I started walking. I've never been so frightened in my life, walking alone in some dark passageway my parents had kept secret. I couldn't imagine where it would lead."

I glanced at Violet and I knew she was thinking of the passageway that had led from our home to the Squalors' apartment.

"And where did it lead?" Violet said.

"To the house of a herpetologist," Quigley said, "At the end of the passageway was a secret door that opened into an enormous room, made entirely of glass. The room was filled with empty cages, but it was clear that the room once housed an enormous collection of reptiles."

"We've been there!" I said in astonishment. "That's Uncle Monty's house! He was our guardian until Count Olaf arrived, disguised as—"

"As a lab assistant," Quigley finished. "I know. His suitcase was still there."

"Now that I think about it," I said, "I think Jane, our friend, mentioned something about a secret passageway in the Reptile Room. She stumbled upon that place as well."

Quigley nodded.

"Also there was a secret passageway under our house, too," Violet said, "but we didn't find it until we lived with Esmé Squalor."

"There are secrets everywhere," Melissa said, "I think everyone's parents have secrets. You just have to know where to look for them. There was a passageway under my own home before it burnt down. Except when my adoptive parents insisted I go inside, it didn't lead somewhere safe at all. The home it led to had already been destroyed too."

"But why would our parents, and yours, have tunnels underneath their homes leading to a fancy apartment building, a herpetologist's home, and another home that had been burned to the ground?" I said. "It doesn't make any sense."

Quigley sighed and placed his backpack on the ground, beside his mask. "There's a lot that doesn't make sense," he said, "I was hoping to find the answers here, but now I don't know if I'll ever find them." He opened his notebook to the first page. "All I can tell you is what I have in here in this commonplace book."

Melissa took out her red one and plopped her own backpack beside Quigley's. "Ditto," she said.

I gave them a small smile and dug into my pockets to remove the information I had stored there. "You tell us what you know," I said, "and we'll tell you what we know. Perhaps together we can answer our own questions."

Quigley and Melissa nodded. We sat down on the floor and Quigley took out a bag of salted almonds from his backpack to hand some to us. "You must be hungry from the climb up the Vertical Flame Diversion," he said, "I know I am."

"I've got water," Melissa said, pulling out four water bottles and giving one to each of us. I had to admit I was quite hungry and very thirsty.

"Let's see, where was I?" Quigley began.

"In the Reptile Room," my sister said, "at the end of the passageway."

"Well, nothing happened for a while," Quigley said. "On the doorstep of the house was the newspaper, _The Daily Punctilio_, which had released an article about the fire. That was how I learned of my parents' death. I spent days and days there, all alone. I was so sad, and so scared, and I didn't know what else to do. I suppose I was waiting for the herpetologist to show up for work, and see if he was a friend of my parents and might be of some assistance. The kitchen was filled with food, so I had enough to eat, and every night I slept at the bottom of the stairs, so I could hear if anyone came in."

I nodded sympathetically and Violet put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "We were the same way," she said, "right when we heard the news about our parents. I scarcely remember what we did and what we said."

"But didn't anyone come looking for you?" I asked.

"_The Daily Punctilio_ said that I died in the fire, too," Quigley said, "The article said that my sister and brother were sent off to Prufrock Preparatory School, and that my parents' estate was under the care of the city's sixth most important financial advisor."

"Esmé Squalor," Violet and I said in unison in a disgusted tone.

"Right," Quigley said, "but I wasn't interested in that part of the story. I was determined to find my siblings again. I found an atlas in Dr. Montgomery's library, and studied it until I found Prufrock Preparatory School. It wasn't far, so I started to gather whatever supplies I could find around his house."

"Didn't you think of calling the authorities?" I asked.

"I guess I wasn't thinking very clearly," Quigley admitted. "All I could think about was finding my siblings."

"Of course," Violet said, "So what happened then?"

"I was interrupted," Quigley said. "Someone walked in just as I was putting in a totebag I found. It was Jacques Snicket, although I didn't know who he was, of course. But he knew who I was, and was overjoyed that I was alive after all."

"How did you know you could trust him?" I asked.

"Well, he knew about the secret passageway," Quigley said. "In fact, he knew quite a bit about my family, even though he hadn't seen my parents in years. And…"

"And?" Violet said.

Quigley gave my sister a tiny smile. "And he was very well-read," he said. "In fact, he was at Dr. Montgomery's house to do a bit more reading. He said there was an important file that was hidden someplace on the premises, and he had to stay for a few days to try and complete his investigation."

"So he didn't take you to the school?" Violet asked.

"He said it wasn't safe for me to be seen," Quigley said. "He explained that he was part of a secret organization, and that my parents had been a part of it, too."

"V.F.D.," I said. Quigley and Melissa were nodding in agreement.

"Duncan and Isadora tried to tell us about V.F.D.," Violet said, "but they never got the chance. Jane keeps trying to tell us too, but something always gets in the way. We don't even know what it stands for."

"It seems to stand for many things," Quigley said, turning some pages in his notebook. "Nearly everything the organization uses, from the Volunteer Feline Detectives to the Vernacularly Fastened Door, has the same initials."

"But what is the organization?" Violet asked. "What is V.F.D.?"

"Jacques wouldn't tell me," Quigley said, "but I think the letters stand for Volunteer Fire Department."

I listened intently as he supplied us the answer we've been looking for all this time. But somehow I felt just as confused and filled with so many more questions.

"Volunteer Fire Department," Violet said again and glanced at me. "What does that mean?"

"In some communities," I said, "there's no official fire department, and so they rely on volunteers to extinguish fires."

"I know that," Violet said, "but what does that have to do with our parents, or Count Olaf, or anything that has happened to us? I always thought knowing what the letters stood for would solve the mystery, but I'm as mystified as I ever was."

"Do you think our parents were secretly fighting fires?" I asked.

"But why would they keep it a secret?" Violet asked. "And why would they have a secret passageway underneath the house?"

"Jacques said that the passageways were built by members of the organization," Quigley said. "In case of emergency, they could escape to a safe place."

"But the tunnel we found connects our house to the home of Esmé Squalor," I said. "That's not a safe place."

"Something happened," Melissa said, "something that changed everything." She glanced at Quigley who had been flipping through his notebook to find the page he was searching for.

"Jacques Snicket said it was called a 'schism,'" Quigley said, "but I'm not sure what that means."

"A schism," I said, "is a division of a previously united group of people into two or more oppositional parties. It's like a big argument, with everybody choosing sides."

"That makes sense," Quigley said, "The way Jacques talked, it sounded like the entire organization was in chaos. Volunteers who were once working together are now enemies. Places that were once safe are now dangerous. Both sides are using the same codes, and the same disguises. Even the V.F.D. insignia used to represent noble ideals everyone shared, but now it's all gone up in smoke."

"But how did the schism start?" Violet asked. "What was everyone fighting over?"

"I don't know," Quigley said. "Jacques didn't have much time to explain things to me."

"What was he doing?" I asked.

"He was looking for you," he replied. "He showed me a picture of all four of you, waiting at the dock on some lake, and asked me if I'd seen you anywhere. He knew that you'd been placed in Count Olaf's care, and all the terrible things that had happened there. He knew that you had gone to live with Dr. Montgomery. He even knew about some of the inventions you made, Violet, and the research you did, Klaus, and some of Sunny's tooth-related exploits, and Jane's help with her strange powers. He wanted to find you before it was too late."

"Too late for what?" Violet said.

"I don't know," Quigley said, "but he told me he was Jane's godfather. Do you know that her name isn't really Jane?"

I nodded. "She found out from a file in the Library of Records," I said. "Her real name is Jamie Murray and unfortunately her aunt is Esmé Squalor. But she still prefers that we call her Jane."

"You mean Count Olaf knows?" Quigley asked looking worried.

"Yes," I said, "but so far it hasn't made much of a difference. He's still after her fortune."

"Why is it a big secret?" Violet asked.

Quigley furrowed his eyebrows. "Like I said Jacques didn't have time to explain much. He only said that Count Olaf could never know. No one can know she's alive. He said it was dangerous."

I frowned, feeling suddenly uneasy. It was hard enough knowing that Jane was in that horrible man's clutches but now her identity was a danger to her.

"Why don't you finish your story?" Violet said to Quigley and put a hand on my shoulder to comfort me.

Quigley nodded. "Anyways, Jacques spent a long time at Dr. Montgomery's house, but he was too busy conducting his investigation to explain everything to me. he would stay up all night reading and copying information into his notebook, and then sleep all day, or disappear for hours at a time. And then one day, he said he had to go interview someone in the town of Paltryville, but he never came back. I waited weeks and weeks for him to return. I read books in Dr. Montgomery's library, and started a commonplace book of my own. At first it was difficult to find any information on V.F.D., but I took notes on anything I could find. I must have read hundreds of books, but Jacques never returned. Finally, one morning, two things happened that made me decide not to wait any longer. The first was an article in _The Daily Punctilio_ saying that my siblings had been kidnapped from the school. I knew I had to do something. I couldn't wait for Jacques Snicket or for anyone else."

We nodded glumly in agreement. "What was the second thing?" Violet asked.

Quigley hesitated. He scooped up some ashes and let them fall back onto the ground. "I smelled smoke," he said, "and when I opened the door of the Reptile Room, I saw that someone had thrown a torch through the glass of the ceiling, starting a fire in the library. Within minutes, the entire house was in flames."

"Oh," Violet said quietly.

I frowned as I thought about another fire burning down yet another place. It made me terribly sad to think that the Reptile Room with all its enormous glass walls that made it seem as though you were in another world, had been destroyed like so many other places. First our home, the Quagmire home, Melissa Sampson's home, and the woods near Jane's old boarding school, Heimlich Hospital, Caligari Carnival, and the V.F.D. headquarters. Smoke was still remaining in the air around us. All these fires that kept happening felt as though the world were going to go up in flames. I wondered if we would ever find a place that was truly safe.

"Another fire," I said softly. "Where could you go, Quigley?"

"The only place I could think of was Paltryville," he said, "The last time I saw Jacques, he'd said he was going there. I thought if I went there I might find him again, and see if he could help me rescue Duncan and Isadora. Dr. Montgomery's atlas showed me how to get there, but I had to go on foot, because I was afraid that anyone who might offer me a ride would be an enemy. It was a long time before I finally arrived, but as soon as I stepped into town I saw a large building that matched the tattoo on Jacques Snicket's ankle. I thought that might be a safe place to go."

"Dr. Orwell's office!" I cried, remembering the bits of what I recalled from our stay at Paltryville when Dr. Orwell hypnotized me. All I remember was looking through one of those lenses for an eye test and seeing that red ruby on the end of Georgina Orwell's cane. I shuddered. "That's not a safe place to go!"

"Klaus was hypnotized there," Violet explained for me, "and Count Olaf was disguised as—"

"As a receptionist," Quigley finished. "I know. His fake nameplate was still on the desk. The office was deserted, but I could tell that Jacques had been there, because there were some notes in his handwriting that he'd left on the desk. With those notes, and the information I'd read in Dr. Montgomery's library, I learned about the V.F.D. headquarters. So instead of waiting for Jacques again, I set out to find the organization. I thought they were my best hope of rescuing my siblings."

"So you set off to the Mortmain Mountains by yourself?" Violet asked.

"Not quite," Quigley said glancing at Melissa. "Of course, Melissa and I crossed paths to discover we were both looking for someone. I told her about the V.F.D. headquarters and we set out together. With me, I had a backpack that Jacques left behind, with the Verdant Flammable Devices and a few other items, and I had my commonplace book. And eventually, we ran into the Snow Scouts, and realized that hiding among them would be the quickest way to reach Mount Fraught." Quigley turned a page in his notebook and studied his notes. "_Remarkable Phenomena of the Mortmain Mountains_, which I read in Dr. Montgomery's library, had a hidden chapter that told me all about the Vertical Flame Diversion and the Vernacularly Fastened Door."

I glanced at his notebook over Quigley's shoulder.

"I should have read that book when I had the chance," I said, shaking my head. "If we had known about V.F.D. when we were living with Uncle Monty, we might have avoided all the trouble that followed."

"When we were living with Uncle Monty," Violet pointed out, "we were too busy trying to escape Count Olaf's clutches to do any additional research."

"So anyways," Quigley said, "the last I heard of Jacques is from what Melissa has told me."

Melissa looked up.

"What did happen?" Violet asked. "How did you wind up here?"

"Well," Melissa said, "a part of me always wanted to find my father. My adoptive parents told me plenty about my mother. But they said something happened to her. She went missing a few years after I was born and no one knew why. But whenever I asked them about my father, they would mutter something about how they hadn't known him very well but they assured me that he cared about me too. Then, they would just change the subject. Though they never really talked too much about my mother either. Only when I asked."

"Have you always known you had been adopted?" I asked.

Melissa shook her head and frowned. "Actually, I only found out a few months before they died," she said sadly. She averted her eyes, blinking hard. "I always knew something was strange. I always wondered why I didn't look anything like them." She paused and I could see this was very hard for her to talk about. She blinked harder and looked up. "I know it was hard for you when your parents died. But when my adoptive parents were killed it was very difficult. I mean, I know they weren't really my parents but I did love them. And having lost two sets of parents has always been hard."

I nodded in understanding. It had been hard enough to lose my own parents but losing two sets seemed just terrible.

"I'm sorry, Melissa," Violet said, patting her hand gently.

Melissa rubbed her eyes and blinked again to make her tears go away.

"Anyways," she said, "when my home burned down, of course, I was brought to the New York Boarding School where Mr. Lance was the principal. On the night of the Company Show, when Jane was kidnapped and the three of you were kicked out, a lot of things changed about that school. Mr. Lance wasn't who everyone thought he was. Actually, I barely knew him myself. He told me he had known my parents though but he was really a villain just like Count Olaf. He was after my fortune. That's why he kept me around. Though he's targeted other orphan children too. I think the only reason that he left you four alone was because he was secretly in cahoots with Olaf too."

"I can't believe," I said, surprised to hear that Mr. Lance hadn't been on our side the entire time. "That's how Olaf must have gotten in."

Melissa nodded. "It's hard to explain what happened next, but you see, ever since I was young, weird things have always happened. For one, I've always had certain dreams. However, the dreams were more like visions, I guess of future events. Recently, they've come even when I'm not asleep…and sometimes they can be very bad. My eyes are always bloodshot and it gives me terrible headaches. And I can't always control when it happens."

"I've heard of that before," I said, "I read a book that told of people who have premonitions. Usually when something really bad is going to happen."

"Well, they're always warnings of horrible events. But sometimes it's confusing because I can't always make sense of them. Either I'm standing on the sidelines watching it take place or I see it through someone else's eyes. When I was in bed one night, I had a…premonition. In the dream, I was seeing the events through Mr. Lance's eyes." Melissa paused, looking terribly sad. "I saw it happen…he burned down the school. I saw the flames and the horrible screams. I woke up practically screaming. So I hurried to the administrative office to try and get help from someone. But of course, none of them would listen. I couldn't explain it without telling them about my visions. Heck, if anyone knew about that, I'd be sent straight to some mental institution."

"How did you get away?" Violet asked.

"I had been planning on taking off on my own," Melissa said, "if I couldn't convince anyone to help me, there was no way in hell I was going to stay there. But as I reached the entrance, I felt a slight twinge of guilt for leaving all these innocent people behind to suffer. After what happened to my adoptive parents, I couldn't bear to think of such a thing occurring and not doing anything to stop it. That was when I ran into Jacques Snicket. As Quigley mentioned, he was following your trail to do research. When I ran into him, he explained who he was and asked me questions about what I had witnessed while you were at the school. He had seemed so kind and…well-read that I thought I could trust him. He said he had known my adoptive parents and my real mother. He told me about V.F.D. and how Jane had been recently rescued from Count Olaf's clutches but he still managed to kidnap Quigley's siblings."

"Did you tell him about the visions?" I asked.

Melissa shook her head. "I didn't know how to explain it and I couldn't be sure that I could trust him. I only told you because…well…I thought of all people, you would be the most understanding." She gave us a small smile.

"It's nice to know you trust us," Violet said. "But what happened? Was there a fire?"

"Well, I was so scared and no one would listen to me," Melissa said, "but I was caught trying to sneak away so they forced me back to my room. Leaving without permission is punishable with a month's detention. I was up all night, worried and alone." She closed her eyes. "Then, the fire started. I remember seeing the first glow and hearing screams coming. The fire drill went off and everyone was frantically evacuating from the buildings. But it wasn't just buildings. Flames engulfed the forest and much of the campus. I was terrified. Jacques Snicket appeared and saved me from the fire. I don't remember what happened after that. There was so much smoke that I fainted. When I woke up I was in a hospital somewhere. Jacques Snicket was gone but his sister Kit had come. I never saw Jacques Snicket again after that. But Kit told me many things about the organization. She said both my real parents had once been apart of it, though not my adoptive parents. I told her that if my real parents had been members, then I wanted to join too. She was reluctant, at first, but eventually assigned me some errands. One of them consisted of disguising myself as a waitress at a café. I had to steal an important piece of evidence from a certain villain that had gotten his hands on it. I succeeded much to Kit's delight and that was when she introduced me to her brother. He never told me his real name. He calls himself Monty Kensicle."

I lit up. "I've heard of him!" I said, "Jane met him while she was in Olaf's clutches. Apparently, he was collecting evidence about us as well. He gave her a notebook like yours to record information."

Melissa nodded. "He told me of his encounter with Jane, Duncan, and Isadora," Melissa glanced at Quigley who looked as though he was hearing this for the first time. "He helped them plan on ways of gathering evidence to put Count Olaf to jail. He gave me my notebook and told me to record any information that seemed important. That's when I confessed that I wanted to find my father. He said he hadn't known him but said he knew a place that contained all kinds of information. The Library of Records at Heimlich Hospital. I begged him to take me there or at least show me the way. That's when I learned of the Snicket file. He said it contained evidence that could put Count Olaf in jail and end all the shit about you being murderers. I really wanted to help you all."

"Why?" Violet said.

"I felt guilty for how I had treated you so I said I would help him get it," she replied, "if there was any chance of helping you stay safe, well, I would want to take it. Anyways, Monty Kensicle also said he wanted me to look for the Murray file because there may be important evidence in there regarding Jane. By then, I already knew who she really was. When I entered the Library of Records and looked for it. I found nothing under the S aisle so I looked in the B aisle. The cabinet appeared empty at first glance, but apparently you found the last page."

I nodded, showing her page thirteen of the Snicket File. It was all we had and we weren't even close to finding the rest. "What did you do then?"

"I hadn't finished my assignment and so I went to the M aisle," she said, "while I was there, I heard a noise and quickly fled out of sight. It was Jane though. Or Jamie, I guess. She discovered the cabinet was open and studied the file. I knew when her eyes found the first photo that she realized what it meant. I was about to show myself and try to explain everything but just then Count Olaf showed up." She rolled her eyes. "Monty Kensicle warned me not to let anyone I couldn't trust or didn't know see me. Especially not Count Olaf."

"Jane told me about that," I said, "it's unfortunate that he took it from her."

"Yeah," Melissa said, "I knew how dangerous it was for him to know and that made me so nervous. I had to stay and watch to make sure she was okay. But fortunately, he didn't hurt her or anything. They left and I thought about following Jane to try to explain everything. Though I was worried about getting caught. I returned to Monty with the bad news and we formulated a new plan. I was going to have to steal the file back somehow. The plan was set but then I had another vision. I saw you four sneaking into the Library of Records and Esmé Squalor going crazy with the file cabinets. I had to do something so I hurried down there. but having to disguise myself as a patient was hard and I got sidetracked a few times. By the time those doctors and nurses left me alone, and I got down there, Esmé had already knocked a bunch of cabinets over. I tried to help in any way I could but then poor Jane got crushed trying to save you, Violet." Violet smiled a bit and I knew she was silently thanking Jane. I didn't know that. But it didn't surprise me. Jane had always protected us. It made me feel a little better knowing she was with Sunny. "Well, I couldn't stick around to help or Esmé Squalor would have seen me. It really bothered me that I had to leave you two behind, but of course, I was under strict orders. Then Mattathias made that announcement of Laura V. Bleediotee's surgery."

Violet and I shuddered, recalling the memory of Violet's operation that nearly killed her.

"I was in the middle of my mission to steal the Murray file at the time," Melissa continued, "when I was notified of the real plan by Monty Kensicle. He told me about how Jane had escaped from Olaf's clutches to find help for Violet. Jane had told him all about Olaf's latest scheme. Monty explained about Jane's mission to disguise herself as one of Olaf's henchwoman. When I learned all the information I would need, I set out to Mattathias' office. I hoped if I could sneak in and steal the file I might be able to help in some other way."

"We ran into Jane," I said, "she was already in disguise when we saw her. Though she never got a chance to tell me about her encounter with Monty Kensicle. But we managed to sneak in and stall long enough for Violet to wake up. It was a close call."

"It was," Melissa agreed. "So I snuck over to Mattathias' office. It was empty when I arrived and getting in was easy. The file was locked away in some drawer. It was all there, though I could tell it had been recently opened. Before I left, I noticed the intercom system. It seemed like a good way to help you."

"Do you mean that you were the one who pretended to be Babs?" Violet said with wide eyes.

Melissa grinned slightly. "Well, I wasn't about to let them decapitate you," she said. "I thought it might ruin their plans. But it backfired. I should have known Mattathias was right around the corner. I should have known he had been up on that rooftop. He came in almost as fast as I made the announcement. I was so scared and I grabbed the nearest object to defend myself in case. But I was not prepared for that and Mattathias discovered I had stolen the file from him. When that happened, he tied me up so I couldn't move. He said something about how I would soon burn to a crisp as he was about to set the Library of Records and the entire hospital on fire. If I didn't die from the smoke, the fire would eventually climb up all those flights of stairs. He left me there, saying how the Murray file was evidence that could send him to jail. He was going to burn it anyways."

"How did you escape?" I asked, remembering that terrible fire like so many others.

"Well, I couldn't move," Melissa said, "I thought I was done for. But I got out of the binding just as the fire had reached outside the door. The room was filling with smoke. When I got out, I wasn't sure what to do. I was on the top floor and the stairs led to the roof. Of course, the hallway was already filled with smoke and flames. There was nowhere else I could go but the roof. When I got up there, all I could see was a thick layer of smoke like a dark cloud. The only reason I knew there were people at the bottom was from those other announcements made by someone pretending to be Babs."

"That was us," Violet said. "We had to get the crowd over to the unfinished wing so we could escape without being seen. I had to use an empty can of soup to make it sound like I was speaking from the intercom."

"That's clever," Melissa said, "Well, anyways, I was standing on the roof and wasn't sure what to do. I tried to go back down into the office to find another escape route that wouldn't kill me but the stairway was already filled with smoke. I only had one option."

"You jumped?" Violet said with wide eyes.

Melissa shook her head. "No. I wasn't trying to kill myself. Afterall, I still had the Murray file. I knew you and other volunteers were depending on my survival. There was a ledge not too far down and a gutter. I tried to climb down the gutter to reach the ledge. I managed too, though it was quite difficult. I kept finding more ledges and used them to get down for a bit. But on the third ledge down, I lost my footing. I started to fall and tried to catch myself on the gutter but it was apart of the unfinished half and therefore wasn't completely sealed." Melissa rolled up her sleeve and there was a white line running across her wrist. "I got cut here. Though luckily it looked nastier than it really was." Her hand fell back to her side. "I couldn't grab hold of anything and swore I was going to fall to my death. It was like in one of those movies where your entire life is flashing before your eyes."

"Oh my," I said. I couldn't think of much else to say. "How did you survive the fall?"

Melissa's eyebrows furrowed. "It was strange," she said. "I don't remember much of what happened but when I hit the bottom, instead of dying instantly from the impact, it was as if I were a bouncy ball. I literally began to bounce as if I were made of rubber. It saved me and when I stopped bouncing, everything went black. I guess it was from all the smoke I was inhaling. But that's another weird thing I have, I guess, like my ability to see the future."

"It's not entirely weird," I said. "Jane and I have these strange abilities too. Actually, before she went to live with Uncle Monty, she was going to be placed in Count Olaf's care. When she got there, she had this strange feeling and then, disappeared out of the blue. She appeared in the passageway that connected Uncle Monty's home to the Quagmire home. I can do things like that too. When Count Olaf was disguised as Mr. Alfonso, I made him fall into a fountain. His disguise was ruined and Mr. Poe was able to see who he really was. Unfortunately, Olaf still got away with Jane."

"It's good to hear that I'm not alone in this," Melissa said. "I was worried I was some freak or something."

"This is all so strange," Violet said, shaking her head as if she didn't believe it. "It doesn't make any sense for someone to just survive a fall like that by _bouncing_. How is that possible? And disappearing? I thought those things only happened in movies."

"Well, we thought hypnosis was just in movies too," I said, "but Dr. Orwell hypnotized me twice."

Violet nodded. "It's just so crazy."

"Jane and I call them Matilda powers," I said, "In the book she has powers when she faces terrible events. But they go away at the end when the conflict is resolved."

"They are kind of like Matilda's powers," Melissa agreed. "Whatever they are, those powers saved my life and the Murray file. When I woke up there was smoke everywhere and a good amount of the hospital had been turned to ashes. I didn't know where to go and I had no idea what happened to Monty Kensicle. I'm not even sure if he survived. Actually, I wasn't even sure if you four survived. So I hid among the Volunteers Fighting Disease, who helped me mend my wound. I stayed with them until we arrived at the Last Chance General Store. Once I got there, I thought of sending a message using the telegram. But who was I going to ask for help? I only knew names of volunteers, however, I had no real way of contacting them. The only thing I knew was that there was an important piece of evidence hidden at Caligari Carnival that Monty Kensicle had been hoping to retrieve after our stay at Heimlich Hospital. I found a map and managed to travel pretty far into the Hinterlands. Except, I had little food or water or any shelter. My chance of survival didn't seem too good. That's why I'm grateful that I ran into Quigley. We learned that we were both volunteers and exchanged stories. He told me his mission to find the V.F.D. headquarters. Quigley said if we reached it, he might find his siblings and I could find Monty Kensicle. That's what made me believe I might find my father here too. Or at least some kind of clue as to who he might be. But I've found nothing. I know quite a bit about V.F.D., however, I'm not even close to knowing even my father's name. But I guess it's for the best." Melissa looked down at her hands and a tear slid down her cheek. "They clearly didn't want me to know who they were or in my father's case, who he might be."

Violet patted Melissa's hand again.

"So do you have the file now?" I asked. "The Murray file?"

Melissa nodded, patting her backpack. "It's in there. There's a hidden compartment that I stored it in to protect it. No one can know I have it. I barely had time to even glance at it. Unfortunately, I haven't had much time to research it either. Though it's probably far more important for Jane to look at."

"Well, I've had plenty time to research," Quigley said, "but neither of us seem to have discovered all the answers we're looking for. I still haven't found Duncan and Isadora, and I still don't know where Jacques Snicket is."

"Me neither," Melissa said, "or Monty Kensicle. I hope he got out okay."

"I don't know about Monty Kensicle," I said, my voice growing soft, "but Jacques Snicket is dead. Count Olaf murdered him."

Melissa's eyes widened. "That's horrible," she said.

"I was afraid you would say that," Quigley said. "I knew something was very wrong when he didn't return. But what about my siblings? Do you know what happened to them?"

"They're safe, Quigley," Violet said, "We think they're safe. We rescued them from Olaf's clutches, and they escaped with a man named Hector."

"Escaped?" Quigley repeated. "Where did they go?"

"We don't know," I admitted, "Hector built a self-sustaining hot air mobile home. It was like a flying house, kept in the air by a bunch of balloons, and Hector said it could stay up in the sky forever."

"We tried to climb aboard," Violet said, "but Count Olaf managed to stop us."

"So you don't know where they are?" Quigley asked.

"I'm afraid not," Violet said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But Duncan and Isadora are intrepid people, Quigley. They survived for quite some time in Olaf's clutches, taking notes on his schemes and trying to pass on the information to us."

"Violet's right," I said, "I'm sure that wherever they are, they're continuing their research. Eventually, they'll find out you're alive, and they'll come looking for you, just like you went looking for them. Same with your father Melissa. You'll probably find him sooner or later."

I glanced at Violet and we shivered, thinking of our own parents.

"I'm sure that if your parents are alive, they're looking for you, too," Quigley said.

"And Sunny and Jane," Melissa said, "Where are they? Are they alright?"

"They're someplace nearby," Violet said. "They're both with Count Olaf, and Olaf wanted to find the headquarters too."

"Maybe he's already been here," Melissa said, "I bet he's the one who set this place on fire. I wouldn't put it past him."

"I don't think so," I said, "He wouldn't have had time to burn this whole place down. we were right on his trail. Plus, I don't think this place burned down all at once."

"Why not?" Quigley said.

"It's far too big," I replied. "If the entire headquarters were burning, the sky would be covered in smoke."

"That's true," Violet said. "That much smoke would arouse too much suspicion."

"Where there's smoke," Quigley said, "there's fire."

I looked at Quigley to nod in agreement but noticed he was staring past us, pointing up at the sky. I followed the direction he was pointing until I saw green colored smoke rising up into the sky from the peak of Mount Fraught.

* * *

><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	20. The Signal

**New chapter! This one switches perspectives a bit so i hope you like it! **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine: The Signal<strong>

_**Klaus Baudelaire**_

The smoke rose up into the sky, arousing yet another mystery.

"It's a Verdant Flammable Device," Quigley said, "There's someone at the top of the waterfall, sending a signal."

"Who do you think it could be?" Melissa asked.

"Maybe it's a volunteer, who escaped from the fire," I said. "They're signaling to see if there are any other volunteers nearby."

"Or it could be a trap," Quigley said. "They could be luring volunteers up to the peak in order to ambush them. Remember, the codes of V.F.D. are used by both sides of the schism."

"It hardly seems like a code," Violet said. "We know that someone is communicating, but we don't have the faintest idea who they are, or what they're saying."

"This is what it must be like," I said thoughtfully, "when Sunny talks to people who don't know her very well."

As I mentioned my younger sister, I recalled how much I missed her and Jane too. I could see from Violet's expression that we were in agreement.

"Whether it's a volunteer or a trap," Violet said, "it might be our only chance to find Jane and Sunny."

"Or my sister and brother," Quigley said.

"Or Monty Kensicle," Melissa said, "or my father."

"Let's signal back," I suggested. "Do you still have those Verdant Flammable Devices, Quigley?"

"Of course," Quigley said and took the box of green tubes out of his backpack, "but Bruce saw my matches and confiscated them, because children shouldn't play with matches."

"Confiscated them?" I said. "Do you think he's an enemy of V.F.D.?"

"If everyone who said that children shouldn't play with matches was an enemy of V.F.D.," Violet said, smiling, "then we wouldn't have any chance of survival."

"Well then how are we supposed to light them?" Melissa said.

Violet pulled out her ribbon from her pocket and tied her hair up, out of her face. She gazed up at the mysterious signal, the gears and levers in her brain whirring as she invented a solution.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Jamie Murray<strong>_

Sunny and I shared a grin as the dish she called 'lox' was being prepared using the smoke from the strange green tube. Where there's smoke, there's fire. I knew if there was any chance of Violet and Klaus surviving the crash, they would see our signal and know where to find us. Now all we had to do was wait. I wandered over to the waterfall and peered over the edge, wondering if perhaps they were on their way right now.

I turned back to Sunny and thought about offering to take over the cooking. But she was doing such a nice job that it didn't seem necessary for me to help. I sat down on the snow beside the dish and helped Sunny prepare it in anyway. I hummed a tune under my breath as we watched the plume of smoke. Members of Olaf's troupe lurked nearby and I didn't want to ruin our plan so we kept talking to a minimum.

"Something smells delicious," one of the white-faced women said as she walked by the casserole dish. "I must admit, I had some doubts that an infant and a young girl should be in charge of the cooking, but that salmon recipe seems like it will be very tasty indeed."

"Sunny's the chef here," I said, "I'm only assisting."

"There's a word for the way they're preparing the fish," the hook handed man said, "but I can't remember what it is."

"She said it already," I said, "weren't you paying attention? It's called Lox."

But as soon as I said it, Count Olaf came storming out of the tent, the sinister duo and Esmé trailed closely behind. He was holding the Snicket file and glared down at us with his gleaming eyes.

"Put that smoke out at once!" he ordered. "I thought you were both terrified orphan prisoners, but I'm beginning to think you're spies!"

"What do you mean, Olaf?" the other white-faced woman asked. "They're using Esmé's cigarette to cook us some fish."

"Someone might see the smoke," Esmé growled. "Where there's smoke, there's fire."

The man with the beard but no hair scooped up some snow and tossed it onto the weeds to extinguish the green tube.

"Who are you signaling to?" he asked. "If you're spies, we're going to toss you off this mountain."

"Goo goo," Sunny said, meaning, "I'm going to pretend I'm a helpless baby, instead of answering your question."

"I had no idea it would arouse any suspicion," I said, trying to sound as innocent as Sunny. But Olaf glared at me, not buying it one bit.

"You see?" the white-faced woman said, nervously glancing at the man with a beard but no hair. "She's just a helpless baby and the girl is no different."

"How do you expect me to believe that?" Olaf snarled looking pointedly at me. "After all this orphan has done to foil my plans before! I don't trust her one bit!"

He grabbed the back of my snowsuit and yanked me to my feet. His face was inches from mine. I shrank back, afraid that he would hit me.

"I agree," the woman with hair but no beard said, "It's in her blood afterall. She's a little mutt after having such repulsive parents. I say we toss her off the mountain!"

I glowered at her. She had said so many terrible things about my parents and I tried not to let it bother me, but it was no use. My hands balled up into fists and I was fuming.

Suddenly, out of the blue, several tiny, red bumps formed on the skin of the sinister duo. They gasped and began to itch at them like a dog with fleas. The rash only seemed to worsen, the more they scratched.

"What is this?" the man with a beard but no hair said. "What in the world is happening to us?"

I unclenched my fists, my anger melting away as I realized who was to blame for this. I looked up only to regret it. Count Olaf and Esmé Squalor were shooting daggers at me.

"You," Olaf snarled. The duo looked at me quizzically and although they probably had no way of proving it, I know they were blaming me too.

"I-I didn't, I swear!" I said, cowering in fear.

But he didn't give me time to explain and I was hurled onto the snowy ground like a rag doll. Before I could even begin to rise to my feet, Esmé was dragging me towards the tent I shared with the freaks.

She pushed me inside, closing the flap behind her. I looked up at her timidly, knowing she would be furious.

"Were you trying to get yourself killed?" she hissed. "You stupid girl!"

I frowned, my anger from before slowly returning. She scoffed at me when I didn't reply and whipped around to leave the tent.

"How could you?" I said, feeling a tear appearing in my eye. "How could you stand there and let those horrible people say such nasty things about my parents—about your sister?" Esmé had halted in her tracks but didn't turn or reply. "Maybe it's a good thing that my mother isn't here. At least she won't be able to see what kind of person you are."

"If I were you, I'd be a little nicer to people who could do so much more frightening things to you then you could ever imagine," Esmé said, still facing away from me, "you should be grateful that I took you away from there when I did."

Then, she stepped out of the tent and disappeared, closing it behind her.

I reached up with my hand to wipe the tears away from my eyes. I wasn't going to start crying. I couldn't cry if I was going to protect Sunny. Courageous people didn't cry.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sunny Baudelaire<strong>_

I watched as Esmé Squalor dragged Jane away, inside the tent. I hoped she would be okay but Esmé probably wouldn't harm her. I know Jane hadn't meant to cause a huge commotion and a part of me wished there was more I could do for her. Afterall, she had done so much for me and of course in the past she had always helped my siblings and I escape Count Olaf's clutches. I glanced at the green tube that was now extinguished so no more smoke swirled up into the sky. Now our signal had been destroyed with no way for my siblings to know where to find us.

I sighed. I really wanted to believe my siblings had survived and they were searching for us. They had saved me before when I had been hopelessly trapped in that birdcage. It was difficult to have to wait, hoping and believing they would come. Of course, there was always the chance that it wasn't true. What would happen then? I knew Jane would make attempts to get us out but would she be able to do it alone?

I shook those thoughts away. I couldn't allow myself to think that way. Violet and Klaus would never leave me behind, they would always come for me. They would come for both of us.

The flap of the tent opened as Esmé stepped out, her face rigid at first but faded away as she sneered at me.

"What are you staring at baby?" she sneered. "You should be busy preparing our supper."

Olaf who had been talking with the sinister visitors looked in my direction and scowled as if he were looking at a pile of garbage.

"Get back to worth toothy," he growled. I looked back down at the casserole dish. "Or we'll stick to our word about throwing you off the mountain."

"That's not necessary," the man with a beard but no hair said. "There's no reason to toss a baby or a young girl off a mountain unless you absolutely have to."

"Babies and children can come in handy," Count Olaf agreed. "In fact, I've been thinking about recruiting more young people into my troupe. They're less likely to complain about doing my bidding."

"But we never complain," the hook-handed man said. "I try to be as accommodating as possible."

"Enough chitchat," the man with a beard but no hair said. 'We have a lot of scheming to do, Olaf. I have some information that might help you with your recruiting idea, and according to the Snicket file, there's one more safe place for the volunteers to gather."

"The last safe place," the woman said. "We have to find it and burn it down."

"And once we do," Olaf said, "the last evidence of our plans will be completely destroyed. We'll never have to worry about the authorities again."

"Where is this last safe place?" Kevin asked.

Olaf nearly answered but the woman with hair but no beard made a gesture to stop him and glanced suspiciously at me. "Not in front of the toothy orphan," she said, her voice as deep as a foghorn. "If she learned what we were up to, she'd never sleep again, and you need your infant servant full of energy. Send her away too, and we'll make our plans."

"Of course," Olaf said giving her a nervous smile. "Orphan, go to my car and remove all the potato chip crumbs from the interior by blowing as hard as you can."

"Futil," I said, meaning, "That is an absolutely impossible chore."

Of course, no one around understood what I was saying. Only Jane seemed to, but she was stuck inside the tent. As Olaf's troupe howled with laughter, I walked over to the car, a little unsteady on my feet still. I couldn't help think that my signal plan had failed and I sighed heavily. As I reached the car, passing the casserole dish where my night would be spent, my hope felt like it was beginning to fade. What if it was all a waste? Were they really out there?

I stared at the frozen waterfall and noticed something peculiar. A plume of green smoke swirled in the sky and my heart soared.

"Sibling," I said, beaming. Even if it wasn't them, someone was out there signaling to me and this hope was enough to help me keep moving. If only I could convince Jane to share the same hope.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Klaus Baudelaire<strong>_

I watched as the plume of green smoke disappeared. It must have been put out and this only made my hope fade even more. What if Jane had been signaling to us that her and Sunny were up there? Olaf probably discovered it and was probably punishing her. I remembered all those times I had seen Jane covered in bruises or the time when all her golden hair had been chopped off. It always made me terribly sad and knowing that I couldn't stop it made it me feel weak and helpless. I couldn't protect Jane the way I should. That's why I needed to find her and take her away from Olaf. I needed to be able to know that she was safe from harm. It killed me to think of those large purple bruises up and down her arms as if she were nothing but a punching bag.

"Look, someone put out the Verdant Flammable Device," Melissa said, she squinted up at the smoke as it evaporated into thin air. "What could that mean?"

"I don't know," Violet said with a sigh. "This isn't working."

"Of course it's working," I said, "It's working perfectly." I explained to her how she had wonderfully constructed an invention to light the Verdant Flammable Device using the scientific principles of convergence and refraction of light—similar to her invention on Lake Lachrymose. Using Colette's hand mirror, she reflected the sunlight onto the device to light it and send a signal.

"Klaus is right," Quigley said, "It couldn't have worked better."

"Thank you," Violet said, "but that's not what I mean. I mean this code isn't working. We still don't know who's up on the peak, or why they were signaling us, and now the signal has stopped, but we still don't know who's up on the peak, or why they were signaling us, and now the signal has stopped, but we still don't know what it means."

"Perhaps we should put out our Verdant Flammable Device, too," I said.

"Maybe," Violet agreed, "or maybe we should go up to the top of the waterfall and see for ourselves who is there."

Quigley and Melissa frowned simultaneously, glancing at one another.

"But the only war up to the highest peak is the path that the Snow Scouts are taking," Melissa said.

Quigley nodded. "We would have to go back through the Vernacularly Fastened Door, back down the Vertical Flame Diversion, back into the Volunteer Feline Detective cave, rejoin the scouts and hike for a long time."

"That's not the only way up to the peak," Violet said and smiled.

"Of course it is," Melissa said, looking at Violet as if she were absurd. "The map shows no other route."

"What about the waterfall?" Violet suggested. We all turned to look at the frozen waterfall.

"Do you mean," I said, curiously, "that you think you can invent something which can get us up a frozen waterfall?"

I didn't need an answer because Violet was already tying up her hair and looking around at the destroyed headquarters.

"I'll need that ukulele that you took from the caravan," she said to me, "and that half-melted candelabra over there by the dining room table."

I did as she said and soon Violet was examining the objects. "Unless you need any further assistance," I said, "I think I might go examine the wreckage of the library and see if any documents have survived. We might as well learn as much from this headquarters as we can."

"Good idea," Quigley said and pulled out a notebook with a dark blue cover. "I have a spare notebook," he said. "You might be interested in starting a commonplace book of your own."

"That's very kind of you," I said. "I'll write down anything I find. Do you and Melissa want to join me?"

"I think I'll stay here," Quigley said, glancing at Violet. "I've heard quite a bit about Violet Baudelaire's marvelous inventions, and I'd like to see her at work."

I nodded and looked at Melissa. She glanced at Quigley and Violet, a coy smile on her lips. "I'll come with you, Klaus," she said, "I don't want to overcrowd her."

Melissa got up and followed me over to the library. Or at least what remained of it. There was an iron archway that marked the entrance of the ruined library. I stared at the arch, noticing the words, 'The world is quiet here' carved on the arch. It reminded me of the archway at Prufrock Prep that had the school's motto engraved on it. Perhaps this was some kind of motto.

I walked through the arch, entering the library now crumbled to pieces of ashes. I frowned looking at all the wreckage. All this information had been erased like that and I didn't think I would find anything. There were burnt pages along the floor and on tables and chairs. Most of them were far too damaged to read. However, I did notice a piece that was quite legible apart from a few blank spots.

'In the e flagration resulting in the destruction of a sanc , teers should avail themselves of Verbal Fri Dialogue, which is concealed accordingly.'

"Look at this, Melissa," I said to her. She moved to my side and I showed her the note. She gazed at it for a moment before she looked back up at me.

"What could this mean?" she asked. "All those blanks make it confusing."

"Let's show the others and see what they think," I said.

We showed Violet and Quigley the message and I explained how 'flagration' was probably part of the word 'conflagration', which is a fancy word for fire. 'Sanc' was most likely the start of the word 'sanctuary', meaning a safe place. The sentence, I explained to them, must have gone: 'In the event of a conflagration resulting in the destruction of a sanctuary…'

Violet got up off the ground to look at the piece of paper. "'Teers,'" she said, "is probably 'volunteers,' but I'm not sure what 'avail themselves' means."

"It means 'to make use of,'" I said, "like you're availing yourself of the ukulele and those forks. Don't you see? This says that in case a safe place burns down, they'll leave some sort of message—'Verbal Fri Dialogue.'"

"But what could 'Verbal Fri Dialogue' be?" Melissa asked. "Friends? Frisky?"

"Frilly?" Violet suggested. "Frightening?"

"But it says that it's concealed accordingly," I pointed out. "That means that the dialogue is hidden in a logical way. If it were Verbal Waterfall Dialogue, it would be hidden in the waterfall. So none of those words can be right. Where would someone leave a message where fire couldn't destroy it?"

"But fire destroys everything," Violet said. "Look at the headquarters. Nothing is left standing except the library entrance, and . . ."

". . . and the refrigerator," I finished, "or we might say, the fridge."

"Verbal Fridge Dialogue!" Melissa said.

"The volunteers left a message," I said, moving over to the fridge, "in the only place they knew wouldn't be affected by the fire."

"And one place their enemies wouldn't think of looking," Quigley said. "After all, there's never anything important in the refrigerator."

We gathered around the fridge and searched its contents. There was a jar of mustard, three jars of different kinds of jam, a lone pickle, a container of olives, and a bottle of lemon juice.

"There doesn't appear to be anything helpful in here," Melissa said.

"Look in the crisper," Quigley said, pointing to the drawer where vegetables and fruits were commonly kept. I opened it and took out some pieces of a green plant with small, skinny leaves.

"This smells like dill," I said, "and it's quite crisp, as if it were picked yesterday."

"Very Fresh Dill," Quigley said.

"Another mystery," Violet said, tears filling her eyes. "We have nothing but mysteries. We don't know where Sunny and Jane are. We don't know where Count Olaf is. We don't know who's signaling us at the top of the waterfall, or what they're trying to say, and now there's a mysterious code in a mysterious refrigerator, and a bunch of mysterious herbs in the crisper. I'm tired of mysteries. I want someone to help us."

"We can help each other," I said, softly. "We have your inventions, Quigley's maps, Melissa's visions and the Murray file, and my research."

"Violet," Melissa said, "you were undoubtedly the best student in AP Physics. If you can do that well in that class, there's no mystery you can't solve."

"And we're all very well-read," Quigley said. "That should be enough to solve any mystery."

Violet sighed and kicked at something on the ground. "It's like we're members of V.F.D. already," she said. "We're sending signals, and breaking codes, and finding secrets in the ruins of a fire."

"Do you think our parents would be proud of us," I asked, "for following in their footsteps?"

"I don't know," Violet said. "After all, they kept V.F.D. a secret."

"Maybe they were going to tell us later," I said.

"Or maybe they hoped we would never find out," Violet said.

"My adoptive parents weren't members," Melissa said, "but I think they knew too. Why else would they have that secret passageway? They never really wanted me to find out about my real parents and maybe this organization is why. But if I spent my entire life without either of them, then I deserve an answer. I deserve to know why."

"I keep wondering the same thing," Quigley said. "If I could travel back in time to the moment my mother showed me the secret passageway under the library, I would ask her why she was keeping there secrets."

"That's one more mystery," Violet said sadly. She gazed up at the slippery slope. The sky was darkening as the afternoon wore on. "We should each investigate the mystery we're most likely to solve," she said. "I'll climb up the waterfall, and solve the mystery of the Verdant Flammable Device by learning who's up there, and what they want. You should stay down here, Klaus, and solve the mystery of the Verbal Fridge Dialogue, by learning the code and discovering what the message is."

"And we'll help you both," Quigley said. "I'll leave my commonplace book with Klaus, in case it's any help with the codes. And I'll climb up the waterfall with you, Violet, in case you need my help." He took out his commonplace book.

"And I'll stay down here with Klaus," Melissa said, "in case he needs my help."

"Are you sure?" Violet asked. "You've already taken us this far. You don't have to risk your life any further."

"We'll understand," I said, "if you want to leave and continue searching for your siblings and your father."

"Are you kidding?" Melissa said. "I waited my whole life for my father. It's time I made him wait for me. There's no way I'm abandoning you."

Quigley nodded. "Besides, we're all part of this mystery, whatever it is. Of course I'm going to help you."

I glanced at Violet. I felt a little safer knowing that Melissa and Quigley were so trustworthy and willing to help us. It made these mysteries seem a little less pressing and with their help perhaps we could solve them.

Violet stepped forward, her feet inside odd fork-assisted climbing shoes that scraped on the ground. She took Quigley and Melissa's hands.

"Thank you," she said, "for volunteering."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Jamie Murray<strong>_

I sighed heavily and wandered over to my bag, sinking down beside it. I looked around, thinking of what I could do to pass the time. It made me itch to be sitting around in here while Count Olaf was out there making plans with those awful people and Sunny was cooking dinner on her own. There was no way for me help Sunny or to eavesdrop at all. I was stuck in a stupid tent with nothing but the items in my bag.

However, I did have the owl figurine. Which may in fact be the evidence that the man with a beard but no hair and the woman with hair but no beard mentioned. I took it out of my bag, grasping the smooth surface. There was a bit of texture on the feathers to make it seem more real. And as I looked at the owl, I thought about Spirit. It made me feel a little better; that there was a part of him here with me. It made me wonder about the other owl. The one that delivered the strange letter. I've heard of carrier pigeons and of course, I knew about carrier crows. But never did I think owls could be messengers too. Could they be sent from V.F.D. members? Maybe the letters were coming from Monty Kensicle, telling me that he had collected all the evidence we needed to send Olaf to jail. Of course, there wasn't enough evidence to do that. Olaf had the Snicket file and he was certainly going to destroy it along with the Murray file. I shuddered to think of that poor girl, Melissa Sampson, who was unfortunate enough to get tangled up in all this.

Olaf could destroy those files, however, I wasn't going to let him destroy the evidence I held in my hands. Whatever happened to the Violet and Klaus, it was my duty to get Sunny and I out of this. This evidence may be just what we need.

What kind of evidence could be stored in such a small figurine? I turned it over in my hands, feeling a sense of déjà vu as I studied the owl for what seemed like the umpteenth time. I saw what I already observed before. It had soft, brown feathers with yellow speckles. There was the insignia of V.F.D. carved on the bottom that seemed to be watching me like so many other eyes. It was strange looking because one of its eyes was brown, while the other was bright yellow. The figurine, while quite small, felt strangely heavy in my hands.

I brought it up to my ear and started to shake the owl like a bottle of ketchup while trying to determine what could be inside. There was no feeling of the weight inside shifting from one side to the other. It was rock solid. There was definitely something hidden inside there with no way to tell what, unless it were opened. The question was, how could I open it?

I looked around it again. The only things that stuck out to me were the insignia and the eyes except, the insignia was clearly carved into the figurine and the eye didn't look or feel like a secret compartment.

I sighed in frustration and tossed the owl aside. I found myself no longer able to sit still and began to pace aimlessly. I tried to take my mind off the figurine by thinking about the next time I would see Klaus. If I would see him.

I allowed myself to imagine how I would hug him so hard that he'd never be able to let go of me again. And I swore when I saw him, I would tell him how I felt. I didn't care if he wasn't feeling that way towards me, I just wanted him to know how much he meant to me.

The thought of possibly losing my best friend forever was nearly as painful as when my parents left me. I mean, I know I decided last night that I would try to have faith and be strong for Sunny. Except, I couldn't. I wasn't strong. If I were, I would've been able to save the Baudelaires. I wouldn't have caused Violet's and Klaus' deaths because I had been too careless. It was all my fault that this happened. I couldn't know for sure if they had survived.

I couldn't lose him. Not now. Not ever.

I sank back down onto the floor of the tent, tucking my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.

Klaus was all I had. What would I do without him? I didn't have a family, except for Esmé and she's the last person I would stick with. I was so scared of losing him. It seemed impossible and I didn't understand it. Why did I have to lose so much? It wasn't fair. For once in my life, I found someone who made me so happy. But that would have to be short lived.

I knew if Violet and Klaus were dead, and Sunny and I never got away from Olaf, that I would truly lose everything. My breath hastened as suddenly, it felt harder to breathe. The thought of being alone was more frightening to me than anything else. All of my life I've been alone until now. Would it really slip away from me again?

"_How long have I,_

_Been in this storm?" _I began to sing softly to myself.

"_So overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form._

_Water's getting harder to tread,_

_With these waves crashing over my head._

_ If I could just see you,_

_Everything will be all right._

_If I'd see you,_

_ This darkness will turn to light._

_ And I will walk on water,_

_And you will catch me if I fall,_

_And I will get lost into your eyes._

_And everything will be all right,_

_And everything is all right._

_ I know you didn't,_

_Bring me out here to drown._

_So why am I ten feet under and upside down?_

_ Barely surviving has become my purpose,_

_ Cause I'm so used to living underneath the surface._

_ If I could just see you,_

_Everything will be all right._

_If I see you,_

_ This darkness will turn to light._

_And I will walk on water,_

_And you will catch me if I fall._

_And I will get lost into your eyes,_

_I know everything will be all right._

_ And I will walk on water,_

_And you will catch me if I fall._

_And I will get lost into your eyes,_

_I know everything will be all right,_

_I know everything is all right._

_Everything's all right._

_Yeah,_

_Everything's all right."_

I finished the song, feeling more tears slowly sliding down my face. "Please," I said softly through my sobs. "Please don't leave me, Klaus."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Review!<em>**

**_The song is called 'Storm' by Lifehouse :)_**


	21. The Slippery Slope

**ENJOY! :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten: The Slippery Slope<strong>

_**Jamie Murray**_

Time passed and I was still stuck in this tent. I had nothing to do except stare at the tent, occasionally hum a tune, or continue to study the owl figurine. I hadn't looked at it in a bit so I found the figurine and picked it up again. I gazed at its eyes with their mismatching colors. They seemed so strange. But they still didn't give me any sign of how to open it.

I was reminded of the time I spent at the Village of Fowl Devotes when we were rescuing the Quagmires from that strange fountain in the middle of the courtyard. The one shaped like a giant crow. Sunny got stuck up there hanging on for dear life with her teeth. She used them to press a button that opened the bird. It seemed so obvious once we had figured it out. Of course, that button had been on its eye.

Thoughtfully, I pressed my finger down on the brown eye but nothing happened so I tried it with the yellow eye. Sure enough, there was a strange, low buzzing noise. Then the back of the figurine popped open and a small screen was inside with a keypad of controls. I stared at the tent in its frame and my eyes widened. It must be some sort of video camera! There was a red dot on the top corner of the screen that flashed and I realized it was recording already. The control panel had a variety of buttons and I was curious about using them all. Except I knew it wouldn't be wise to press too many in case it caused a problem. The video camera was all I needed for now. It was absolutely perfect. I grinned as my mind swirled with all kinds of plans. I was tired of sitting around and waiting for help to come to me. Olaf may have stolen my notebook and Olaf may have destroyed some very my family's file, but I was going to make new evidence that he wouldn't get to destroy. So even if Violet and Klaus had perished, at least I could repay them with this. If those villains thought I was a spy than I would be.

I could hear the crunch of snow as a pair of feet neared the tent.

Quickly, I pressed the button on its eye again so it closed and stuffed the owl in my bag, letting the eyes poke out a bit. Just in case.

As I expected, the flap of the tent opened and Count Olaf entered.

"What are you doing?" he said with accusing eyes.

"Sitting in the tent," I said, "and passing the time."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "I know what you're up to," he said in a low voice.

"What are you talking about?" I said, getting to my feet. "We were cooking. I didn't realize it counted as spying."

He raised his hand and struck me across the face so I fell to the floor of the tent. Then he kicked me in the stomach.

"Ow!" I cried.

"Don't play dumb with me," he growled. "I've been reading your stupid diary. I know all about your sneaking around and spying." He stepped towards me. "I know all about your plans that you've set up with that volunteer. Monty Kensicle. I don't know who that is but when I do, that volunteer will be very sorry he ever messed with my plans. I'll do what I did to Jacques Snicket." He grabbed me by my hair and forced me to my feet again. Then he leaned forward so he was in my face. "As for you, I'll be keeping a very, very, _very_ close eye on you, you stupid girl!"

I took a deep breath and shuddered when I thought of Jacques Snicket lying lifeless on the floor. Then my imagination changed it to Monty Kensicle. I was so glad I hadn't used his true name in my notebook and I left out our meeting at Heimlich Hospital. At least he'll be somewhat safe for now.

"You don't need to worry," I said. "Because we lost touch. I haven't seen him in a long time. Besides, we never got the chance to do much."

"Of course. You're a pathetic, little ten year old girl with no one who cares about her," Olaf said, "You're too foolish to realize that soon all my plans will succeed because I have the Snicket file and soon I'll destroy like I did to your file. All the evidence that could send us to jail will be destroyed. Once we get to the last safe place, we'll burn that down too. Then the last evidence of our plans will be completely destroyed! We'll never have to worry about the authorities again!"

I was silent and out of the corner of my eye, I could see the owl figurine still poking a bit out of my bag. I bit my lip so my grin wouldn't give me away.

"Now," he said, "get out of here and go help toothface clean crumbs out of the car by blowing as hard as you can."

I nodded silently even though it was a ridiculous chore. Like when I had to pick up all the sticks on Count Olaf's property. I began to follow Olaf out of the tent but as I reached the flap that Olaf had exited through, I quickly turned and got the owl figurine. I wasn't done with spying yet. I stuffed it in my coat, suddenly thankful that it was oversized and could hide the owl quite easily.

"Where are you, Blondie?" Olaf hollered.

"I'm coming!" I said as I exited the tent. I hurried over to where Sunny was busy doing that ridiculous chore.

Sunny noticed the red mark on my face and frowned. "Olahurtu?" she said meaning, "Are you okay? Did Olaf hurt you?"

I shrugged. "Yeah but it only hurts a little," I lied. "Besides there are more important things." I lowered my voice. "Like finding out where the last safe place is."

Sunny nodded in agreement.

"So do you remember how those awful visitors said that there was a special piece of evidence hidden in a figurine at Caligari Carnival?" I began.

Sunny nodded. "Olburn," Sunny said which meant, "But Count Olaf burned the carnival down. The evidence was probably destroyed."

I shook my head and pulled the owl figurine out of my pocket. "I've got it," I said. "I realized that when they were talking about it. Not just because I got it at the carnival, it has an eye carved onto the bottom—V.F.D.'s insignia. And there's a secret compartment in it that opens to a screen. It's a video camera, Sunny. It probably has all kinds of information—evidence. And so we have to use it to make more. I need to ask you to do something."

Sunny looked at the owl figurine. "Whavor?" Sunny asked meaning, "What do I have to do?"

"We just have to make sure we use this for dinner," I said, "if they ask, we'll tell them it's a center piece. Esmé might recognize it but it won't be of much importance to them. Then, we can record their conversation and spy. Afterall, that's what I am to them. So be it! Well, what do you think?"

"Approb," Sunny said meaning, "Of course I'll help you spy on them as long as we don't get caught."

We smiled at each other with our new plan of action. I was tired of being pushed around by Count Olaf and all those other villains. It was my turn to fight back-for Klaus, for Violet, for Sunny, for Jacques Snicket, and for all of those volunteers out there. And myself.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Klaus Baudelaire<strong>_

We broke apart and said final goodbyes as we prepared to go our separate ways. I stood under the archway of the library with Melissa as Violet and Quigley walked over to the waterfall. Melissa and I wished them good luck as I polished my glasses. I would be in for some serious research and I needed to be able to focus as best as I could.

"Good luck to you!" Violet called back. "Klaus—"

I placed my glasses on my nose and smiled bravely. "Whatever you're thinking of saying," I said, "say it when you return."

Violet nodded and turned towards the waterfall. I turned for the library but something stopped me.

"Violet, wait!" I shouted as she tapped the ice.

She glanced back. "What is it, Klaus?"

"If it's true," I said, "if Jane is up there, will you tell her…" I wanted to tell her something perhaps that I liked her very much. But I wanted to do that in person. I just needed her to know I was there for her. "Just tell her that I miss her."

Violet smiled. "Of course," she said, "but perhaps you'll get to tell her that yourself."

I nodded, hoping Violet was right and I would get that chance. For now, I had to focus on my research. I turned and headed inside the library, beckoning Melissa to follow me.

She trailed behind and when I looked at her she was giving me a sly smile.

"So where should we start?" Melissa asked, her expression fading quickly. "I guess I could show you my commonplace book to help you too. I also have the Murray file, though I'm not so sure that will help us solve Verbal Fridge Dialogue."

"This is going to be far more difficult," I said, "the library is destroyed with no way of searching for a specific book for information. We'll have to search the ashes to see if there are any other scraps lying around that could help us solve the mystery of Verbal Fridge Dialogue."

"Alright," she said. "You look on this side of the room and I'll look over there."

I nodded and we got to work.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Jamie Murray<strong>_

Sunny and I were in the middle of our task of blowing the crumbs out of the car when I heard a strange noise. It was a sort of thunking noise coming from the frozen waterfall.

"What was that?" I said to Sunny. She shrugged and looked over at the frozen waterfall.

There was another thunk as if someone were chipping the ice away. Curious, I wandered over to the edge with Sunny and as we moved closer, we could here low voices.

"…667 Dark Avenue," A voice said that sounded very familiar. I almost couldn't believe it as I listened, my heart soaring with hope. "It took a very long time to go up and down that elevator shaft, trying to rescue Jane and your siblings. I hope this is a more successful journey."

I peered over the edge and could make out two people climbing the waterfall using what appeared to be fork-assisting climbing shoes. I couldn't believe my eyes, the girl had dark brown hair tied back with a hair ribbon. It was Violet! The boy who was with her looked strangely familiar but I couldn't see his face to be sure. But I had to rub my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

"Me too," the boy said, "What do you think we will find at the top?"

"Set!" Sunny answered, grinning from ear to ear. That was her way of saying "I knew you would find us!"

"I'm sorry," the boy said, not noticing us. "I didn't hear you over the wind. What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything," Violet said, looking up.

"We knew you would find us!" I said for Sunny and I couldn't stop from beaming in happiness.

"Sunny!" Violet cried, "Jane!"

"Sssh!" We said simultaneously.

"What is going on?" the boy asked.

"It's Sunny and Jane," Violet said as she climbed onto the peak. She went to Sunny first, hugging her youngest sister tightly before hugging me. We all had tears in our eyes. Now I knew we would be safe. Sunny and I could leave Count Olaf's clutches. The boy had climbed over the peak too and was leaning against one of the car's tires.

"I knew we'd see you again," Violet said. "I just knew it."

"Where's Klaus?" I asked, concerned. Did he survive? My smile faded and my chest tightened, as I prepared to hear the words I was dreading the most.

"Don't worry, he's safe and nearby," Violet said. "He knew we could find you, too."

"Set," Sunny agreed.

"That's a relief," I said, relaxing. It felt so wonderful to be wrong this time.

Then Violet noticed the red mark on my face. "Oh, no," she said, "he didn't hurt you again, did he?"

"Don't worry about it," I said, "it's nothing really. I'm fine. It just stings a little."

Suddenly I noticed the boy. It struck me that he looked strangely like Duncan and Isadora Quagmire. My eyes widened in amazement.

"Is that Quigley Quagmire?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Yes," Violet replied. "This is Quigley Quagmire. He survived the fire after all."

I smiled and held my hand out to shake his. "Jacques told me about you," I said, "I tried to tell your siblings you were alive, but unfortunately, they slipped away before I had the chance. In fact, I didn't even have a chance to tell the Baudelaires. But I'm so glad you're alive."

Quigley smiled. "Jacques mentioned you too," he said, "You're Jamie Murray, right?"

I nodded. Sunny stepped forward to shake his hand too.

"Quigley helped lead us to the headquarters with a map he drew himself," Violet said.

"Arigato," Sunny said, which was her way of saying, "I appreciate your help, Quigley."

"And Melissa Sampson is at the bottom of the waterfall with Klaus," Violet said. "Do you remember her from the New York boarding school we attended? Well, she helped save the Murray file from being destroyed by Olaf and helped bring us to the headquarters too."

My eyes widened. "She's alive?" I said in surprise. "Olaf said she died in a fire and the Murray file was destroyed too."

Violet smiled and shook her head. "She survived luckily," she said, "and so did the file."

I grew even happier with this news.

"Was it you who signaled us?" Quigley asked.

"Yep." Sunny said "Jarus." Which meant, "Jane and I did it together."

"It was mostly Sunny," I said, "I only helped."

"How did you do it?" Violet asked.

"Lox," Sunny said.

"Count Olaf's been making you do the cooking?" Violet asked in astonishment.

"Yes," I said, "Sunny and I made a delicious looking breakfast but of course, they're picky eaters and blew up at us."

"Vaccurum," Sunny added.

"Olaf even made them clean crumbs out of the car," Violet explained to Quigley, "by blowing as hard as they could."

"That's ridiculous!" Quigley said.

"Cinderella," Sunny said meaning, "Jane and I have had to do all of the chores, while being humiliated at every turn." I nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, Count Olaf was hollering at us again.

"Where are you, Babylaire and Blondie?" he asked. "I've thought of more tasks for you to perform."

I looked at Violet and Quigley in panic.

"Hide," I whispered.

Violet and Quigley searched for a place to hide.

"Under the car," Violet said and they squeezed underneath the car.

I turned as Count Olaf and Esmé arrived. He glowered at us and Esmé was giving me a nasty look. Clearly I had upset her by what I said earlier. I don't think I would be wearing another one of her fashionable outfits anytime soon. I couldn't say I was disappointed.

"All we've had to eat all day is that smoked salmon, and it's almost dinnertime," Count Olaf complained. "You'd better get cooking, orphans. If it's as revolting as breakfast it'll be all your fault, Blondie."

"Tomorrow is False Spring," Esmé said, "and it would be very in to have a False Spring dinner."

"Did you hear that, orphans?" Olaf said. "My girlfriend wants a stylish dinner. Get to work."

"Olaf, we need you," said the woman in her gravelly voice. Olaf and Esmé stiffened at the sight of them. I shivered as they approached, clearly their rashes had faded and now they were very unhappy with me. they didn't understand that I had no control over the things that happened. If I did, I would've teleported out of here with Sunny by now. The only thing I knew how to do was move objects without touching them.

"Yes, Olaf," the man with a beard but no hair agreed. "Our recruitment plan will happen first thing in the morning, so we need you to help spread the net out on the ground."

"Can't you ask one of our employees?" Esmé asked. "There's the hook-handed man, the two white-faced women, and the three freaks we picked up at the carnival. That's eight people, if you include yourselves, to spread out the net. Why should we do it?"

The man and woman stepped toward Esmé and Olaf with a terrifying expression on their faces that made me shiver from head to toe. "You'll do it," the woman with hair but no beard said, "because I say so."

There was a pause and then Olaf laughed nervously. "That's a good point," he said. "Come on, Esmé. We've bossed around the Babylaire and Blondie, so there's nothing else to do around here anyway."

"That's true," Esmé agreed. "In fact, I was thinking about taking up smoking again, because I'm bored. Do you have any more of those green cigarettes?"

"I'm afraid not," the man with a beard but no hair replied as they moved away. "That's the only one I found."

"That's too bad," Esmé said. "I don't like the taste or the smell, and they're very bad for you, but cigarettes are very in and I'd like to smoke another one."

"Maybe there's another one in the ruins of headquarters," the woman with hair but no beard. "It's hard to find everything in all those ashes. We searched for days, and couldn't find the sugar bowl."

"Not in front of the baby," Olaf said fast and they walked away. We waited until they were out of sight and then Sunny said, "Coastkleer," which meant, "It's safe to come out now."

"Those were terrible people," Quigley said and shuddered as he brushed the gunk off of his coat. "They had me feel cold all over."

"They certainly had an aura of menace," Violet agreed in a low voice. "The feet with the tattoo were Count Olaf, and those glittery shows were Esmé Squalor, but who were the other two, Sunny?"

"Unno Narsonist," Sunny said quietly meaning, "I don't know, but they burned down V.F.D. headquarters."

"And the woman was the headmistress at my boarding school in Canada," I said, "She was the one who set the fire that nearly killed me, not Carmelita. She only took part in locking me inside that shed."

"Oh, my," Violet said and then explained Sunny's part to Quigley.

"Well, Klaus has found an important message that survived the fire," She said. "By the time we get you two down the waterfall, I'm sure he and Melissa will have it decoded. Come on."

"Nogo," Sunny said meaning, "I don't think Jane and I ought to accompany you."

I looked from Sunny to Violet and realized she was right. We still had the owl figurine to spy on Count Olaf and his companions.

"I agree," I said.

"Why on earth not?" Violet asked.

"There's one last safe place for volunteers to gather," I explained.

"Do you know where it is?" Quigley asked.

I shook my head sadly.

"Olafile," Sunny explained.

"But if Count Olaf has the Snicket file," Violet said, "how are you going to find out where this safe place is?"

"Matahari," Sunny said meaning, "If we stay, Jane and I can spy on them and find out."

Violet translated for Quigley.

"We have a plan," I said and pulled out the owl figurine. "This is an important piece of evidence that was hidden at the Caligari Carnival. I took it before Olaf could burn the place down and when I opened it, there was a video screen inside. Someone must have bugged it."

Quigley looked at the owl figurine curiously. "Really?"

I nodded and showed them the V.F.D. insignia on the bottom. "Not only that, but the eyes are quite strange looking. That's because one of them is a button. And I think the other is a lens."

"Wow," he said.

"So we were hoping to plant it somewhere and record their conversation," I said, "we can find out what they're up to and stop them."

"Absolutely not," Violet said. "It's not safe for you to stay here. It's bad enough that Olaf has made you do the cooking."

"Lox," Sunny pointed out.

"But what are you going to make for a False Spring dinner?" Violet asked.

I looked at Sunny, not knowing yet what we would make. Sunny gave Violet a smile and went to the trunk. She searched its contents and took out the frozen hunk of spinach, the can of water chestnuts, the large bag of mushrooms, and the enormous eggplant.

"False spring rolls!" She announced, which meant that we would wrap spinach leaves around various vegetables in honor of False Spring.

"I'm surprised you can even carry that eggplant, let alone prepare it," Violet said. "It must weigh as much as you do."

"I'll be here to help," I reminded her.

"Suppertunity," Sunny said and Violet translated, "Serving the troupe dinner will be a perfect chance to listen to their conversation or record it with the owl figurine."

"It sounds dangerous," Quigley said.

"Of course it's dangerous," Violet said, "If they're caught spying, who knows what they'll do? Jane has already been harmed enough. I've seen those bruises on your arms." She said this as I was pulling my sleeves down to pretend they still weren't there. There wasn't nearly as many bruises as they had slowly begun to fade. Of course, all the scratches were gone because of the ointment I put on them. "I don't want that happening to either of you again."

"Ga ga goo goo," Sunny said meaning, "I won't be caught, because they think I'm only a helpless baby."

"Sunny will be fine," I said, "If we get caught, they're most likely to blame me. They always do. But I can handle it."

"That's especially why neither of you should stay," Violet said.

"I think they're right," Quigley said. "It wouldn't be safe to carry her down the waterfall, and there's no extra fork-assisting climbing shoes for Jane to use. We need our hands and feet for the climb. Let them investigate the mystery they're most likely to solve, while we work on an escape plan."

Violet shook her head. "I don't want to leave them behind," she said. "The Baudelaires should never be separated."

"Separate Klaus," Sunny pointed out.

"If there's another place where volunteers are gathering," Quigley said, "we need to know where it is. Sunny and Jane can find out for us, but only if they stay here."

"I'm not going to leave my baby sister on top of a mountain," Violet said.

"I'm not a baby," Sunny said, letting go of the vegetables and giving Violet a hug. Violet paused and then after a moment, she smiled.

"I guess you're right," Violet said, "You're not a baby. But be careful, Sunny. You're a young girl, but it's still quite dangerous for a young girl to spy on villains. And remember, we're right at the bottom of the slope. If you need us, just signal again."

Sunny opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by an odd hissing noise from Olaf's car. It shifted slightly and I noticed one of the tires had gone flat.

"I must have punctured it," Violet said, "with my fork-assisted climbing shoes."

"I suppose that's not a nice thing to do," Quigley said, "but I can't say I'm sorry."

"How's dinner coming along, orphans?" Count Olaf called over the howl of the wind.

"I guess we'd better leave before we're discovered," Violet said, giving Sunny another hug and kissed her on the top of my head. "We'll see you soon, Sunny."

I looked down at the ground as they continued to say goodbye to each other. I knew it was wrong to be jealous, that it was only reasonable that Violet cared a lot for Sunny since they were sisters, but it still made me feel like it was Parents' Weekend all over again. Parents' Weekend was an annual event at my boarding school in Canada where everyone's parents, siblings, and relatives came to visit for a weekend. They set up all kinds of events like an egg toss, jump rope competitions, and all kinds of fun events. Since the boarding school I went to was mainly for children with guardians because of its cost, everyone else had their parents to play the games with. I always had to sit on the sidelines and keep score.

I remembered the first time I saw the event. It was the first time I realized what I didn't have.

And now in this moment, that feeling came back as if I were just the lone outsider.

"Good-bye, Jane," Violet said, giving me another hug. I pushed my thoughts aside and decided I was being too dramatic.

"Good-bye," Quigley said shaking my hand and then Sunny's. "I'm so glad to finally meet you both in person. And thank you very much for helping us find the last safe place."

"Of course," I said, "This is our mystery to solve too."

I glanced at Sunny who looked from Violet to Quigley to me with a huge smile on her face. I knew she felt the same happy feeling I did. Knowing that the Baudelaires were all alive and well, that Quigley and Melissa were with us, filled me with warmth and the knowledge that we could possibly have a happy ending.

"Happy," Sunny said, and despite my stinging cheek, I couldn't help feel it too.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Klaus Baudelaire<strong>_

It took a very long time, but at last, Melissa and I had decoded the strange message of Verbal Fridge Dialogue. We had spent most of the time searching for clues in the wreckage of the library before finding our first clue.

"What's this?" I carefully picked up a page that was in the same pile of ashes that I found the last message in. I scanned the page and discovered that it was an explanation of how the code works. "Melissa, come over here, I think I found something."

Melissa walked over and I shined the flashlight I had found onto the page so I could read: "'Verbal Fridge Dialogue is an emergency communication system that avails itself of the more esoteric products in a refrigerator. Volunteers will know such a code is being used by the presence of very fr—' That's where it ends."

"Well, it has to be something in the fridge," Melissa said. "Remember what Quigley said, 'Very Fresh Dill.'"

"That's what I was thinking," I said, "and 'esoteric' probably means items in the refrigerator that aren't used very much. So we need to look at the items in the fridge again. But I'd better copy this into my commonplace book before we do anything else. The page is quite fragile."

"Is there anything I can do?" Melissa asked.

I nodded. "Could you grab me something to use as a paperweight and all the contents of the fridge?" I said.

"Of course," Melissa said and left the library to go into the kitchen.

When she returned with all the materials, I had already copied the passage into both of our commonplace books. Melissa had said she wanted to keep track of everything in case it became important in the future.

Melissa handed me a burnt teacup that she said I could use for a paperweight. I put it on top of the piece of paper and then laid out the ingredients in a semi-circle around my workspace. There was the jar of mustard, the container of olives, three jars of jam, and the very fresh dill.

"Thank you," I said. We continued to work, sifting through the notes I copied into my commonplace book and searching the contents of each item. It was already dark by the time we had finally decoded the message.

"Yes, that's it!" I cried. "We've done it!"

Melissa looked at me in amazement. "My goodness you're a fantastic researcher," she said, "Violet mentioned you were interested in reading but I had no idea you were this good."

"Thank you," I said, "I appreciate your help." I turned back to my commonplace book. "I'll quickly copy it down into our notebooks."

"Great," Melissa said, "I'll go in the kitchen to see if Quigley and Violet have returned."

She exited the library and I got busy copying the last bits of information. I had completed filling in my notebook and was about to move onto Melissa's when I heard loud cracking noise like glass shattering followed by a scream that sent shivers up my spine.

* * *

><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	22. Fighting Fire With Fire

_**New Chapter so Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Fighting Fire with Fire<strong>

_**Klaus Baudelaire**_

"Melissa?" I called.

The scream persisted but there was no other noise.

Quickly, I abandoned my workplace and bounded out of the library. In the kitchen I could see bits of white china from another teacup scattered on the floor beside Melissa's limp form, slumped against the deteriorated kitchen counter. I went over to her and could see the whites of her eyes as they rolled back into her head.

"Melissa!" I grabbed her shoulders and tried to shake her gently to make it stop. She stopped screaming but the rest of her body went rigid.

I didn't know what to do. I went back into the library and retrieved the other teacup. I found Melissa's backpack and pulled out a water bottle to fill the cup. Then I splashed it on her face, hoping it would help.

There was a moment where she screamed again and then, she went still again. Her eyes fluttered open and I was horrified to see they were bloodshot. Her already light skin appeared paler still, even in the fading light.

"Melissa?" I said, uncertain of how conscious she was.

Her eyebrows furrowed and then she groaned, putting a hand on her forehead. She moved to get up and I grabbed her arm to support her. She leaned against the counter, her hands over her eyes. "S-sorry, K-klaus," she managed in a hoarse voice. "I had another vision." She rubbed her forehead. "It must have given you an awful fright."

I nodded, still speechless.

"Could you get that bottle of aspirin from my bag?" she asked. "It usually helps with the headache."

"Right away," I said and found the bottle. She gulped one down with water and then splashed more on her face.

She removed her hands, revealing her still bright red eyes.

"Don't worry," she said, seeing my expression. "It usually goes away after a few hours. This one wasn't even close to as bad as the vision I had of the fire at my boarding school."

"Maybe you should sit down," I said, "and tell me what your vision was about when you feel up to it."

Melissa nodded and unsteadily walked back over to the library archway while I followed close behind. I held my hands out a few inches in front of me incase she collapsed again. We sat back down where we had been only minutes ago. Except now there was an even bigger problem on our hands.

"What did you see?" I asked when she was silent.

She blinked and put her water bottle to her forehead, using it like an icepack.

"It was strange…" she began. "As I said earlier, I can't always make sense of what it is that I'm seeing. In the vision I was seeing it from someone else's perspective and I was on top of some mountain—probably this one. There were these horrible people there—who I encountered while running errands for Kit Snicket—and all I remember were these eagles in the sky that the people were controlling and they were carrying the net away."

"What did they look like?" I asked.

"One of them was a man with a beard but no hair," she said, "the other was a woman. They're villains, I know that much. Probably the scariest villains I've ever met."

"I don't recognize them," I said. "Do your visions usually come true?"

"I've never really been able to prevent them from happening," Melissa replied. "As far as I know, they happen whether I like it or not."

I frowned. "What could this mean?" I asked. "Do you think these people are at the top of the mountain at this very moment?"

"They could be," Melissa said.

Our eyes widened as we realized Quigley and Violet may have just gotten theirselves into further danger.

"Do you think…?" I started, glancing up at the frozen waterfall.

Melissa frowned. "If it's true, it won't be happening tonight," she said, "it was daytime when it happened, the morning, I think."

"We have to get up there," I said firmly, "and get them back down before something bad happens."

"How?" Melissa said, "I don't think we could build our own fork-assisting climbing shoes without Violet. I'm not nearly as good at mechanical stuff as she is."

"We have to try," I said, "what if they hurt them?"

Melissa got up and walked out of the library. I hurried behind her and she shined the flashlight up at the frozen waterfall.

"There they are!" she said.

I looked up to where she was pointing and could see two figures making their way down the waterfall. I sighed in relief.

It was a few moments before they stepped safely onto the frozen pool and walked with caution across until they arrived at the kitchen.

"I'm so glad you returned in one piece," I said. "It looked like a very slippery journey."

"We thought something terrible happened," Melissa added, "I had another vision of something bad happening on the top of the mountain."

"We'll tell you all about it," I said, "It's getting cold, but if we sit behind the library entrance, we'll be away from much of the wind."

"It's Sunny and Jane," Violet blurted eagerly. "They're at the top. It was them who was signaling us."

"Sunny and Jane?" I said, my eyes widened and I smiled. Knowing Jane and my little sister were nearby made everything else feel as though it didn't matter. "How did they get up there? Are they safe? Why didn't you bring them back?"

"They're safe," Violet said. "They're with Count Olaf, but they're safe."

I wasn't entirely persuaded. "Has he harmed them?" I asked.

Violet frowned. "Um…don't get too upset," she said, "but he has hurt Jane a bit."

My eyes widened in horror. Of course, I should have known. It wasn't the first time I was learning this. But I couldn't help my fists clenching in anger.

"Why didn't you take her away from there Violet?" I said. "He'll hurt them both. If you won't do it then, I'll go up there myself and get them."

"Klaus," Violet said softly, "we can't. If we just take them, they'll notice they're gone and find us. They can see everything from up there. But I promise we'll think of something to save them."

I sighed. "I just can't stand being away from them and knowing Jane is hurt."

Violet put a hand on my shoulder. "I know," she said, "But she's not letting it bother her, so neither should you."

"He's making them do all the cooking and cleaning too," Quigley added.

"But how can they without a heat source?" I said, "And Sunny's only a baby!"

"Not anymore," Violet said. "We haven't noticed, Klaus, but she's grown up quite a bit. She's really too young to have to do such chores, but Jane's with her. And sometime during all the hardship we've been through, she stopped being a baby."

I frowned, feeling a little sad at the thought. Sunny's childhood had been cut short by all of our misery. However, it also made me slightly proud knowing that she was growing up. Violet was right, she wasn't a baby anymore.

"She's old enough to eavesdrop with Jane," Quigley said. "And Jane has an important piece of evidence that they're using to help. They've already discovered who burned down the V.F.D. headquarters."

"They're two terrible people, a man and a woman, who have quite an aura of menace," Violet said. "Even Count Olaf is a little afraid of them."

"What are they all doing up there?" I asked.

"They're having some sort of villainous meeting," Quigley said. "We heard them mention something about a recruitment plan, and a large net."

Melissa gasped and we looked at each other with wide eyes.

"What is it?" Violet asked.

"Melissa had a vision," I said.

Melissa described her vision of the net and the two terrible people she had seen. Violet and Quigley had wide eyes as they listened.

"That's horrendous," Violet said, "They're going to capture all those people in that large net?"

"I guess so," Melissa said, "That pair is frightening. One of my errands involved stealing something from them. I took these lighters that they had on them. But that was to distract them from what I really stole."

"Well, there's more that we learned from up there," Violet said, "Count Olaf has the Snicket file, and he found out about some secret location—the last safe place where V.F.D. can gather. That's why they stayed up there. If they overhear where the place is, we'll know where to go to meet up with the rest of the volunteers."

"I hope they manage to find out," I said. "Without that piece of information, all that we've discovered is useless."

"What have you discovered?" Quigley asked.

"We'll show you," Melissa said. We led the way to the library where we had been working.

"This is some of the most difficult research I've ever done," I said as I sat down beside my notebook. Melissa nodded in agreement. "Justice Strauss's legal library was confusing, and Aunt Josephine's grammatical library was dull, but the ruined V.F.D. library is a much bigger challenge. Even if I know what book I'm looking for, it may be nothing but ashes."

"Did you find anything about Verbal Fridge Dialogue?" Quigley asked.

Melissa and I explained about the note that explained the whole code.

"There was more to the message after that," I continued after explaining about the Very Fresh Dill. "I discovered another page while you were gone that says 'The receiver of the message should find his or her initials, as noted by one of our poet volunteers, as follows.' And then there's a short poem:

"_The darkest of the jams of three,_

_contains within the addressee."_

"That's a couplet," Quigley said, "like my sister writes."

"I don't think your sister wrote that poem," Violet said, "This code was probably invented before your sister was born."

"That's what I thought," I said, "but it made me wonder who taught Isadora about couplets. Whoever it was might have been a volunteer."

"She had a poetry teacher when we were young," Quigley said, "but I never met him. I always had cartography class."

"And your mapmaking skills," Violet said, "led us to the headquarters."

"And your inventing skills," Klaus said, "allowed you to climb up to Mount Fraught."

"And your researching skills are helping us now," Violet said.

We all looked at Melissa. I wasn't sure where her skills lied. She gave us a half-smile. "Well, my adoptive parents weren't necessarily volunteers," she said, "but I did go to voice lessons and acting class. You can hide secret messages in those too. I never paid much attention to that though. I just liked performing."

"I never thought of learning about maps as training," Quigley said. "Like Melissa said, I just enjoyed doing it."

"Well, I haven't had much training in poetry," I said, "but the couplet seems to say that inside the darkest jar of jam is the name of the person who's supposed to get the message."

Violet looked at the jam. "There's apricot, strawberry, and boysenberry," she said, "Boysenberry's the darkest."

I nodded and removed the cap from the jar of boysenberry jam. "Look inside," I said, and Melissa shined the flashlight inside to make it clearer. There were two letters on the surface of the jam: J and S.

"J.S.," Quigley said. "Jacques Snicket."

"The message can't be for Jacques Snicket," Violet said, "He's dead."

"Maybe whoever wrote this message doesn't know that," I said, and I continued to read. "'If necessary, the dialogue uses a cured, fruit-based calendar for days of the week in order to announce a gathering. Sunday is represented by a lone—' Here it's cut off again, but Melissa and I think it means that these olives are an encoded way of communicating which day of the week a gathering will take place, with Sunday being one olive, Monday being two, and so on."

"How many olives are in that container?" Quigley asked.

"Five," Melissa answered.

I wrinkled my nose. "I didn't like counting them. Ever since the Squalors fixed us aqueous martinis, the taste of olives hasn't really appealed to me."

"Five olives means Thursday," Violet said.

"Today's Friday," Quigley said. "The gathering of volunteers is less than a week away."

We all nodded in agreement and I opened my notebook again. "'Any spice-based condiment,'" I read, "'should have a coded label referring volunteers to encoded poems.'"

"I don't think I understand," Quigley said.

Melissa and I glanced at each other and I sighed. Melissa handed me the jar of mustard. "This is where it gets really complicated," she said,  
>"Mustard is what the note is referring to and apparently it should refer us to a poem of some sort."<p>

"How can mustard refer us to a poem?" Violet asked.

Melissa and I smiled. "We were puzzled for a long time," I said, "but I finally thought to look at the list of ingredients. Listen to this: 'Vinegar, mustard seed, salt, tumeric, the final quatrain of the eleventh stanza of "The Garden of Proserpine," by Algernon Charles Swinburne, and calcium disodium, an allegedly natural preservative.' A quatrain is four lines of a poem, and a stanza is another word for a verse. They hid a reference to a poem in the list of ingredients."

"It's the perfect place to hide something," Violet said. "No one ever reads those lists very carefully. But did you find the poem?"

"Under a burnt wooden sign marked 'Poetry,' we found a pile of papers that were beyond recognition," Melissa said, "but here's the one surviving scrap, and it's the last quatrain of the eleventh stanza of 'The Garden of Proserpine,' by Algernon Charles Swinburne."

"That's convenient," Quigley said.

"A little too convenient," I said. "The entire library was destroyed, and the one poem that survived is the one we need. It can't be a coincidence." I showed Quigley and Violet the scrap of paper. "It's as if someone knew we'd be looking for this."

"What does the quatrain say?" Violet asked.

"It's not very cheerful," I said and then read:

"_That no life lives forever;_

_That dead men rise up never;_

_That even the weariest river_

_Winds somewhere safe to sea."_

We all shivered and moved closer together. We were surrounded by darkness except for the flashlight in Melissa's hands.

"I wish Isadora were here," Quigley said. "She could tell us what that poem means."

"_Even the weariest river winds somewhere safe to sea_," Violet repeated. "Do you think that refers to the last safe place?"

"I don't know," I said, "I couldn't find anything else that would help us."

"What about the lemon juice?" Violet asked. "And the pickle?"

Melissa and I shook our heads.

"We think there may have been more to the message," Melissa said, "but it's all been destroyed by the fire. I couldn't find anything more in the library that seemed helpful."

Violet took the scrap of paper from me and studied the quatrain. "There's something very faint here," she said, "Something written in pencil, but it's too faint to read."

Quigley dug around in his backpack and pulled out a flashlight. "I forgot we have more flashlights," he said, shining it onto the paper. I could just make out the faint word written beside the last four lines of the poem's eleventh stanza.

"Sugar bowl," we all said in unison and exchanged glances.

"What could that mean?" I asked.

Violet sighed. "When we were hiding underneath the car," she said, looking at Quigley, "one of those villains said something about searching for a sugar bowl, remember?"

Quigley nodded and pulled out his notebook. "Jacques Snicket mentioned a sugar bowl once," he said, "when we were in Dr. Montgomery's library. He said it was very important to find it. I wrote it down on the top of a page in my commonplace book, so I could add any information I learned about its whereabouts." He showed us the page and I could see it was blank. "I never learned anything more."

"Kit Snicket and Monty Kensicle mentioned it too," Melissa said, "neither of them would explain what it was, they only said we had to find it. That's mainly why I was participating in all those errands. We were trying to discover its whereabouts. I never succeeded, though."

I sighed. "It seems that the more we learn, the more mysteries we find. We reached V.F.D. headquarters and decoded a message, and all we know is that there's one last safe place, and volunteers are gathering there on Thursday."

"That might be enough," Violet said, "if Sunny finds out where the safe place is."

"But how are we going to get Sunny and Jane away from Count Olaf?" Melissa asked.

"With your fork-assisted climbing shoes," Quigley said. "We can climb up there again, and sneak away with Sunny and Jane."

Violet shook her head. "Like I said earlier, the moment they noticed they were gone," she said, "they would find us. From Mount Fraught, they can see everything and everyone for miles and miles, and we're hopelessly outnumbered."

"That's true," Quigley said, "There are ten villains up there, and only six of us. Then how are we going to rescue them?"

"Olaf has two people we love," I said thoughtfully. "If we had something he loves, we could trade it for they're return. What does Count Olaf love?"

"Money," Violet said.

"Fire," Melissa muttered, scowling at the ground.

"Jewels," Quigley said.

"We don't have any money or jewels," I said, "and Olaf won't trade Sunny and Jane for a fire. There must be something he really loves—something that makes him happy, and would make him very unhappy if it were taken away."

Violet and Quigley exchanged glances and smiled. "Count Olaf loves Esmé Squalor," Violet said. "If we were holding Esmé prisoner, we could arrange a trade."

"That's true," I said, "but we're not holding Esmé prisoner."

"We could take her prisoner," Melissa said quietly.

We were all silent. I knew that such a thing was a terrible thing to do even though we had a good reason. It made me feel like a villain, too. I could see the others were just as uncomfortable with the plan as well.

"How could we do it?" I asked in a quiet voice.

"We could lure her to us," Violet said, "and trap her."

Quigley jotted something down in his notebook. "We could use the Verdant Flammable Devices," he said, "Esmé thinks they're cigarettes, and she thinks cigarettes are in. If we lit some of them, she might smell the smoke and come down here."

"But then what?" Melissa asked.

Violet shivered from the cold and dug in her pocket for her ribbon that she used to tie her hair back. "The easiest trap to build," she said, "is a pit. We could dig a deep hole, and cover it up with some of this half-burned wood so Esmé couldn't see it. The wood has been weakened by the fire, so when she steps on it . . ."

Violet trailed off and I nodded. "Hunters have used traps like that for centuries," I said, "to capture wild animals." The thought made it even worse. It reminded me of this short story I had read called _The Most Dangerous Game _about a hunter who stumbles upon an island where he finds himself being hunted like an animal by a despicable man. The thought of trapping Esmé as though she were a wild animal made my stomach uneasy.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Violet said.

"How could we dig such a pit?" Quigley asked.

"Well," Violet said, "we don't really have any tools, so we probably have to use our hands. As the pit got deeper, we'd have to use something to carry the dirt away."

"I still have that pitcher," I said.

"And we'd need a way to make sure that we wouldn't get trapped ourselves," Violet said.

"I have a rope," Quigley said, "in my backpack. We could tie one end to the archway, and use it to climb out."

Violet reached her hand to feel the ground. "Is this the right thing to do?" Violet asked. "Do you think this is what our parents would do?"

"Our parents aren't here," I said, sadly. "They might have been here once, but they're not here now."

We were silent again and I tried to think about Violet's question. I wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do. We didn't seem to have much of a choice and it was the only plan that we could come up with.

"I don't know if it's the right thing to do," Violet said, "but Count Olaf captured Sunny and Jane, and we might have to capture someone ourselves, in order to stop him."

"We'll fight fire with fire," I said.

"Then we'd better get started," Melissa said and we all stood up. "When the sun rises, we can light the Verdant Flammable Devices with the mirror again, like we did when we were signaling Jane and Sunny."

"If we want the pit to be ready by dawn," Violet said, "we'll have to dig all night."

"Where shall we put the pit?" I asked.

"In front of the entrance," Violet decided. "Then we can hide behind the arch when Esmé approaches."

"How will we know when she's fallen in," Quigley asked, "if we can't see her?"

"We'll hear it," Violet replied. "We'll hear the breaking of the wood, and Esmé might scream."

I shuddered at the thought. "That's not going to be a pleasant sound."

"We're not in a pleasant situation," Violet said.

We all nodded solemnly and got to work. We kneeled in front of the entrance to the library to begin digging through ashes and dirt with our bare hands with only a few flashlights for light including the one Melissa provided. As Quigley tied the rope to the archway, Violet, Melissa, and I used the pitcher to carry the dirt away. The hole gradually got larger as the night went on and in the darkness, appeared to look like the mouth of some frightening creature, swallowing us whole.

By the time the sun began to rise on the misty horizon, we had dug a very deep hole. I gazed up at the summit of the Mortmain Mountains to where I knew Sunny and Jane would be. I could see Jane standing at the top, gazing at the sun rising over the horizon. It made me think of that cold, dreary night we had spent together, but with Jane it hadn't been so bad. I desperately wanted to see her again. I didn't want that to be the last sunrise we ever watched together. I liked her too much to let Count Olaf get away with her again. And my baby sister was in jeopardy. We had to help them even if it meant doing this villainous deed.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Jamie Murray<strong>_

We were just about done preparing the False Spring Rolls. There was only one ingredient left.

"Why don't you use your teeth to chop the eggplant?" I said. "That will be a nice addition to this meal."

But Sunny only gave me a toothy grin. "Eureka!" she said like she had said earlier about having an idea.

"What's your new idea?" I asked.

Sunny still grinned as she hoisted the eggplant up and carried it over to the car. She rolled it behind the flat tire and winked.

"I still don't understand," I said.

"Eggplantme," she said meaning, "This eggplant weighs as much as I do. Perhaps we can put it in my casserole dish and escape without them noticing."

My eyes widened. "That's a brilliant plan Sunny," I said, "we can trick them. It may only work for a bit, but it could give us more time to get down the waterfall. When dinner is over, I can try to do the same. Well, lets finish and get dinner served."

We had finished just as Count Olaf came over to bark at us to serve it. The silverware and plates used were the same as this morning. I just hoped we didn't have another disaster like breakfast. As planned, we propped the owl figurine in the center of the blanket so it would have a clear view of anything suspicious that went on. Sunny brought over the casserole dish that we were using to store the False Spring Rolls. The villains gathered around and sat on the blanket.

We began serving the food, listening to their conversation. But every time we came close, they would glare at us and change the subject.

"What's that owl thing doing there?" Olaf said.

"It's a center piece," I said, "we thought it matched False Spring."

"That's the same owl from the carnival gift shop," Esmé said, "why do you have this?"

"I-I thought it looked like Spirit," I said, "so I saved it from the fire."

Olaf, Esmé, the sinister duo, and the others frowned in confusion.

"Remember?" I said, "That owl that came into the room you locked me in?"

Olaf and Esmé seemed to remember because they looked at each other and scowled.

"That bird?" Esmé said, scornfully. "That makes it even worse! Take it away from here!"

Olaf grabbed the owl and tossed it aside. "I told you to make this dinner very in for my girlfriend," he said angrily, "if she doesn't like that owl, then it's gone."

They turned back to the meal and continued their conversation as if we weren't there. Sunny and I walked gloomily over to where the owl landed to pick it up. We sat down near the car, our task of serving dinner over, and indulged in some of the False Spring Rolls. However, we didn't enjoy them as much as we would have if our plan had succeeded.

"Spirithoot?" Sunny asked meaning, "What were you talking about when you mentioned 'Spirit'?"

I realized I never actually mentioned him to the Baudelaires before. We were usually caught up in so much trouble that I forgot. So I told Sunny about being locked in that bedroom for weeks with no one but Spirit for company. I told her how he could spell my name and how he had brought me this medicine that could heal my wounds instantly. I told her how that small bird had saved my life. Which is why I had called him Spirit.

"Olaf and Esmé walked in when he was visiting once," I said, "and they tried to hurt him. Spirit attacked them and then I helped him get out before they could really do damage to him. I got in so much trouble but it was worth it. I really miss him."

"Messengeryou," Sunny said meaning, "Maybe he will come to bring you that message like that other owl."

I nodded. "Maybe," I said, "whoever is sending me those letters really wants me to see them. But Olaf and Esmé always get in the way. Perhaps another one will come again tomorrow morning."

Sunny nodded.

"Don't worry," I said after a moment, "we'll think of another way to spy on them with this figurine. We just can't let them see it next time."

Sunny nodded sadly. "Besides," I said, quietly so only we could hear, "Violet, Klaus, Quigley, and Melissa are all planning on helping us escape. And I'm sure they will. Then, I can finally tell Klaus what I've been keeping a secret this whole time."

Sunny smiled and gave me a hug.

"I love you too, Sunny," I said, squeezing her back.

* * *

><p><strong>Review!<strong>

**So there's only a few chapters left before TGG! I have tons of things planned already :)**


	23. The World Is Quiet Here

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: The World Is Quiet Here<strong>

_**Jamie Murray**_

That night, Sunny and I could sense the shift in the climate as it became slightly warmer. However, the warm weather did not make me feel any better. I decided to sleep outside again with Sunny when Olaf and his companions weren't paying attention. It was hard to get much sleep when all I could think about was when I would see Klaus again. Now that I knew he was alive, I was anxious to see him so I could see it for myself.

Sunny slept in her casserole dish, warmer now that she had the scarf as a makeshift blanket. We were both fully awake before the sun rose. Sunny wandered over to me and I pulled her onto my lap. Sunny let me braid her hair, which had grown longer since she we first met and now it fell down to her chin in loose, strawberry blonde curls. Just long enough to make two short braids.

"Now I just need something to hold them in place," I said. I had brought my bag out with me to use as a pillow. So using one hand to hold the braids in place, I opened the bag and searched for a pony tail holder. My hands brushed something silky smooth near the bottom. I pulled the slim piece of fabric out and my eyes widened.

"Look what I found," I said, showing Sunny the red ribbon. "There are two of them. Wait for a moment and I'll find the second one."

I reached back inside the bag until I found the other identical ribbon.

I smiled. "I remember when I got these," I said as I studied them carefully. "I had just turned five. My birthday just happened to be on the day after Carmelita Spats's so every year she would make her birthday such a huge deal and it completely overshadowed mine. So much so that sometimes the school even forgot to give me a present from Good Will or something. Of course, Carmelita always got presents sent by her parents and bragged about every single one. When I got these ribbons, though, and tied my hair up, everyone actually took notice of me and recognized my birthday. Someone even secretly told me—so Carmelita wouldn't know—that she thought I looked pretty." I paused in my story to tie one of the ribbons in Sunny's hair. "I know it must be hard for you, since you lost your parents at such a young age. And so did I, but I can tell you that even though life may never be the same, things will get better. Now that you're growing up into a bright, young girl I want you to have my ribbons to keep."

Sunny shook her head. "Accepas," Sunny said meaning, "I can't accept them. They seem to mean a lot to you."

"You're right," I said, "they do mean a lot to me. But it'll mean more to me if I give them to you. You and your siblings have all been so kind to me. I want you to know I appreciate everything you've done for me. I know we aren't really sisters, but I love you just the same. They'll give you good luck too."

I finished the other braid and Sunny gave me a hug.

"Well, let's put our plan into action, okay?" I said after we finished our hug. "Where's the eggplant?"

Sunny hopped off my lap, her braids bouncing as she walked over to the flat tire of Olaf's car. She rolled the eggplant over.

"Voilà!" She announced with a toothy smile.

I giggled at how adorable she was and helped her put the eggplant inside the casserole dish.

"What are you two up to?"

We jumped and turned to see the white-faced women standing outside the tent.

"Aubergine," Sunny answered meaning, "We've concocted a plan involving this eggplant, and it doesn't matter if I tell you about it because you never understand a single word I say."

They looked at me in confusion and I shrugged. "I don't know what she's saying," I said.

The other white-faced woman sighed. "I'm beginning to think that Sunny is only a helpless baby, and not a spy."

"Goo goo ga—" Sunny started.

Before she could finish, the flap of the tent opened and Count Olaf and Esmé came out. I gaped at the dreadfully outlandish outfits they wore. Count Olaf, for once, had actually taken the time to wash his face and was wearing a new looking suit with what seemed to be polka dots, however, as I looked closer, I realized they were eyes. Kind of like the ones on my uncomfortable but for some reason fashionable snowsuit. Yet not even Olaf's choice of washing his face and wearing that strange outfit could compare to the in outfit Esmé had selected. It was humongous and made of shiny cloth. The cloth was red, orange, and yellow shaped like triangles. The shoulders had huge groups of black lace that stuck up in the air in odd curves. I realized that the outfit was meant to resemble an enormous fire.

I'm not sure why at that moment made me clench my fists. If what Jacques Snicket said was true, my mother may have perished in a fire. And the thought of Esmé parading around in that outfit was like a slap in the face. My heart ached as I was reminded once again of the kind of person my aunt was.

"What a wonderful morning!" Count Olaf crowed. "Just think, by the end of the day I'll have more new members of my troupe than ever before!"

"And we'll need them," Esmé agreed. "We're all going to have to work together for the greater good—burning down the last safe place!"

"Just the idea of the Hotel Denouement in flames makes me so excited, I'm going to open a bottle of wine!" Count Olaf cried. Sunny and I clamped our hands over our mouths to hide our gasps. We exchanged glance, our eyes wide like saucers. So Hotel Denouement was the last safe place? It seemed our spying plans had succeeded afterall.

"The idea of all those eagles filling the sky makes me so excited, I'm going to smoke one of those green cigarettes!" she declared and then frowned. "Except I don't have one. Drat."

"Beg your pardon, your Esméship," one of the white-faced women said, "but I see some of that green smoke down at the bottom of the waterfall."

"Really?" Esmé asked fervently and followed the direction in which Olaf's associate gestured. Sunny and I gazed at it as well and I could see a plume of green smoke from the bottom of the slope. Sunny and I exchanged confused glances. Why were they signaling us?

"That's strange," Olaf said, "You'd think there'd be nothing left of the headquarters to burn."

"Look how much smoke there is," Esmé said greedily. "There must be a whole pack of cigarettes down there. This day is getting even better!"

Count Olaf smiled. He moved his gaze from the waterfall, noticing the two of us.

"The orphans will go down and get them for you," he said.

"Yessir!" Sunny said keenly.

"We'll go right away!" I said just as eager to escape. I picked Sunny up and started for the toboggan.

"Not so fast," Esmé said, glaring at us. "They'll probably steal all the cigarettes for theirselves. I'll go."

"But climbing down there will take hours," Olaf said. "Don't you want to be here for the recruitment scheme? I just love springing traps on people."

"Me, too," Esmé agreed, "but don't worry, Olaf. I'll be back in moments. I'm not going to climb. I'll take one of the toboggans and sled down the waterfall before anyone else even notices I'm gone."

"Drat!" Sunny said.

"Shoot!" I said at the same time. We both meant, "That is exactly what we were planning on doing."

"Shut up, toothy," Esmé said, "I'll take away that glamorous outfit you have on Jamie, if you don't get out of my way."

She brushed past us and I noticed the dress made a crackling noise as she moved also like a fire. She blew Olaf a kiss and grabbed the toboggan.

"I'll be right back, darling," she said. "Tell that baby and my stupid niece to get out of the way so they won't see what we're up to."

"I'm not stupid," I said quietly.

"Esmé's right," Olaf said giving us a cruel smile. "You are a stupid orphan. Put the dumb baby in the casserole dish and go back inside the tent where you should have spent the night. You're such ugly, helpless creatures, I can scarcely stand to look at either of you."

"You said it, handsome," Esmé said, and laughed wickedly as she sat on the toboggan at the top of the waterfall. The white-faced women hurried over and gave her a push. I put Sunny down and she winked before she disappeared behind the flat tire. I trudged miserably back to the tent where unfortunately members of Olaf's troupe still inhabited. They glared at me as I passed and I went to sit gloomily near my bag. The only thing that kept me happy was the thought of seeing Klaus again some time in the near future. I just wish he would get here faster. I don't know why it was so much worse this time. I guess the thought of him dead made me realize just how much I cared about him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Klaus Baudelaire<strong>_

"Look," Violet said, pointing at a strange blob of orange, red, and yellow speeding down the waterfall towards us. Quigley and I were placing the last piece of weakened wood across the pit to hide the pit from view. Melissa was helping Violet reflect the sun onto the Verdant Flammable Devices in front of the pit.

"Do you think it's Esmé?" Melissa asked.

Violet narrowed her eyes in the direction of the blob. "I think so," she said, "Nobody but Esmé would wear an outfit like that."

"We'd better hide behind the archway," Quigley said, "before she spots us."

We nodded and moved behind the archway.

"I'm happy that we can't see the pit anymore," I said. "Looking into that blackness reminded me of that terrible passageway at 667 Dark Avenue."

"First Esmé trapped Jane and your siblings there," Violet said to Quigley, "and then she trapped us."

"And now we're fighting fire with fire, and trapping her," Quigley said, uncomfortably.

"It's best not to think about it," Violet said. "Soon we'll have Sunny and Jane back, and that's what's important."

"Maybe this is important too," I said. I had noticed the archway with a motto inscribed on it below "V.F.D. Library."

"'The world is quiet here,'" Quigley read. "What do you think it means?"

"It looks like a motto," Klaus said. "At Prufrock Preparatory School, they had a motto carved near the entrance, so everyone would remember it when they entered the academy."

"I feel like I've heard it somewhere before," Melissa said, "a very long time ago."

Violet nodded. "I thought so too," she said, "I'm remembering something about that phrase, but just barely."

"The world certainly feels quiet around here," Klaus said. "We haven't heard a single snow gnat since we arrived."

"The smell of smoke scares them away, remember?" Quigley asked.

"Of course," I said and watched Esmé as she came closer. "There's been so much smoke here at the headquarters, the gnats might never come back."

"Without snow gnats," Melissa said, "the salmon of the Stricken Stream will go hungry. They feed on snow gnats."

Quigley opened his commonplace book. "And without salmon," he said, "the Mortmain Mountain eagles will go hungry. The destruction of V.F.D. headquarters has caused even more damage than I thought."

I nodded. "When we were walking along the Stricken Stream," he said, "the fish were coughing from all the ashes in the water. Remember, Violet?"

I looked at Violet who was deep in thought. "I can just hear those words," she said, "the world is quiet here." Her eyes closed. "I think it was a very long time ago, before you were born, Klaus."

"I recall those words being said to me too," Melissa said, "It's a very vague memory though. I can't decide whether it was only a dream or not."

"Was it said to you by your adoptive parents?" Violet asked. "Are you sure they _said_ it? I feel as though I heard the phrase _sung_ to me."  
>"I think…I heard it from…my real mother," Melissa said, slowly, "I don't remember when. I must have been a newborn since my adoptive parents said they raised me from day one. And I think I did hear them in a song. For some reason it makes me terribly sad to hear those words. I don't know why though. Did your parents sing it to you?"<p>

Violet nodded. "I think my parents sang the words 'the world is quiet here' a long time ago, but I don't know why," she said sadly.

"Maybe this isn't the right thing to do," Melissa decided.

"I agree," Violet said, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"But we agreed to fight fire with fire," Quigley said.

"And she helped trap Jane and Sunny," I said, "Remember at 667 Dark Avenue when she tricked Jane and helped Count Olaf capture her?"

"Yes, Klaus," Violet said, "I remember. But I'm sure you'll also recall that Esmé is Jane's aunt. You know how she feels about family. What would she think if we trapped a member of her family in a pit?"

I sighed, knowing Violet was right. I didn't want to upset Jane by hurting a member of her family. No matter what kind of person Esmé was, it wasn't right. We shouldn't allow ourselves to sink to Olaf's level.

"And I know we agreed, Quigley," Violet added, "but if V.F.D. really stands for Volunteer Fire Department, then they're an organization that stops fire. If everyone fought fire with fire, the entire world would go up in smoke."

"I see what you mean," Quigley said. "If the V.F.D. motto is 'The world is quiet here,' we ought to be doing something less noisy and violent than trapping someone, no matter how wicked they are."

"When I was looking into the pit," I said softly, "I was remembering something I read in a book by a famous philosopher. He said, 'Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss looks onto you." I looked from Violet to Esmé and finally at the pit covered by wood. "'Abyss' is a fancy word for 'pit,'" I said. "We built an abyss for Esmé to fall into. That's something a monster might do."

Quigley was copying my words into his notebook. "What happened to that philosopher?" he asked.

"He's dead," I replied. "I think you're right, Violet. We don't want to be as villainous and monstrous as Count Olaf."

"But what are we going to do?" Melissa asked. "Sunny and Jane are still Olaf's prisoners, and Esmé will be here at any moment. If we don't think of anything right now, it'll be too late."

We heard a rough, scraping noise as Esmé reached the bottom of the waterfall. She laughed triumphantly and stepped off the toboggan. Suddenly, Violet hurried over to where the pile of dark masks sat and put one on. She moved into Esmé's view as Quigley, Melissa, and I watched curiously. If I didn't know Violet as well as I did, I would have tried to stop her until we thought of a plan. But I did know Violet and I trusted her plans would succeed.

"Stop, Esmé!" she hollered. "It's a trap!"

Esmé halted and looked at Violet oddly. "Who are you?" she asked. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that. It's a villainous thing to do."

"I'm a volunteer," Violet said.

Esmé's mouth curled up into a sneer. "There are no volunteers here," she said, "the entire headquarters are destroyed!"

I rushed to grab a mask and covered my face with it as I moved to help Violet.

"Our headquarters might be destroyed," I said, "but V.F.D. is as strong as ever!"

She frowned at us. "You may be strong," she said uncertainly, "but you're also very short."

"Size doesn't matter," Melissa said as she too stepped out from behind the arch wearing a mask. "What matters is how you use it."

Esmé sneered at us again. "When I get my hands on you—"

"No!" Quigley cried and he came out with a mask on as well. "Don't come any closer, Esmé. If you take another step, you'll fall into our trap."

"You're making that up," Esmé said. "You're trying to keep all the cigarettes for yourself."

"First of all," Melissa said, "they're not cigarettes. Second, if you don't believe us than why don't you take a peek under that weakened wood see for yourself?"

Esmé eyed us suspiciously. She carefully bent down to move wood out of the way and stared at the pit. "Well, well, well," she said. "You _did _build a trap. I never would have fallen for it, of course, but I must admit you dug quite a pit."

"We wanted to trap you," Violet said, "so we could trade you for the safe return of Sunny Baudelaire and Jamie Murray. But—"

"But you didn't have the courage to go through with it," Esmé said with a disdainful smile. "You volunteers are never brave enough to do something for the greater good."

"Throwing people into pits isn't the greater good!" Quigley cried. "It's villainous treachery!"

"If you weren't such an idiot," Esmé said, "you'd realize that those things are more or less the same."

"He is not an idiot," Violet said defensively. "He led us here to the headquarters using a map he drew himself."

"He practically saved my life," Melissa added.

"And he's very well-read," I said.

Esmé laughed wickedly and threw her head back. "_Well-read_!" she said again, nastily. "Being well-read won't help you in this world. Many years ago, I was supposed to waste my entire summer reading _Anna Karenina_, but I knew that silly book would never help me, so I threw it into the fireplace. My sister did and I'm sure you all know what happened to her." she said, scathingly. Esmé snickered as she threw a few pieces of wood off to the side. "Look at your precious headquarters, volunteers! It's as ruined as my book. And look at me! I'm beautiful, fashionable, and I smoke cigarettes!" She continued to laugh and pointed at us with contempt. "If you didn't spend all your time with your heads stuck in books, you'd have that precious baby and my niece back."

"We're going to get them back," Violet said firmly.

"Really?" she said in a mocking tone. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"I'm going to talk to Count Olaf," Violet said, "and he's going to give them back to me."

Esmé laughed again. "What do you mean?" she said.

"Just what I said," Violet said.

"Hmmm," Esmé said skeptically. "Let me think for a moment." She started pacing back and forth.

I leaned over to whisper to Violet. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Do you honestly think that we can get Sunny and Jane back from Count Olaf with a simple conversation?"

"I don't know," Violet whispered back, "but it's better than luring someone into a trap."

"It was wrong to dig that pit," Melissa agreed, "but I don't see how walking straight into Olaf's clutches is the right thing to do, either."

"It'll take a while to reach Mount Fraught again," Violet said. "We'll think of something during the climb."

"I hope so," Klaus said, "but if we can't think of something—"

Before I could finish, Esmé was clapping her hands together to get our attention.

"If you really want to talk to my boyfriend," she said, "I suppose I can take you to where he is. If you weren't so stupid, you'd know that he's very nearby."

"No shit Sherlock," Melissa muttered sarcastically. "We saw you sled down from the summit. He's at the top of the waterfall, at the source of the Stricken Stream."

"Then I suppose if you think your so smart, you know how we can get there," Esmé said and then looked a little embarrassed. "The toboggan doesn't go uphill, so I actually have no idea how we can reach the peak."

"She will invent a way," Quigley said, gesturing to Violet.

Violet smiled and closed her eyes in thought.

In no time at all, we were all ready for a long journey up the waterfall. Violet had directed us to tie the leather straps of the toboggan around our waists to drag Esmé behind us as we climbed using fork-assisted climbing shoes.

"Mush!" Esmé called as if we were a pack of sled dogs.

"I wish she'd stop saying that," Violet said as she tapped a spot on the ice.

I felt saddened by the thought of leaving the V.F.D. headquarters. It felt as though we had accomplished nothing during our stay except the discovery of more mysteries. I wondered if I would ever have the chance to sit in the comfortable chairs of the V.F.D library and discover all kinds of secrets of V.F.D.

"Mush!" Esmé cried again with a wicked laugh.

"Please stop saying that, Esmé," Violet hollered impatiently. "That _mush_ nonsense is slowing our climb."

"A slow climb might be to our advantage," I said to Violet. "The longer it takes us to reach the summit, the longer we have to think up what we're going to say to Count Olaf."

"We could tell him that he's surrounded," Quigley said, "and that there are volunteers everywhere ready to arrest him if he doesn't let Sunny and Jane go free."

Violet shook her head. "He won't believe that," she said, "He can see everything and everyone from Mount Fraught. He'll know we're the only volunteers in the area."

"There must be something we can do," I said, "We didn't make this journey into the mountains for nothing."

"Of course not," Melissa said. "We found each other, and we solved some of the mysteries that were haunting us."

"Will that be enough," Violet asked, "to defeat all those villains on the peak?"

I frowned and tried to think of an answer to her question. But this was something that even I might never know the answer to. The rest of our journey was spent in silence as we thought hard about what we would do. At last, we reached the top and climbed up onto the peak, dragging Esmé up with us. I nearly forgot about who was in the area until I heard that all too familiar scratchy voice from right behind us.

"Who goes there?" Count Olaf demanded.

We turned and saw Count Olaf standing with a man and a woman. The man had a beard but no hair while the woman had hair but no beard. When I saw them, my skin turned cold and I realized they must be the frightening pair Violet had mentioned. All three villains glared at us skeptically.

I wondered where they were keeping Jane and Sunny. I wanted to see them so badly.

"We thought you'd get here by taking the path," the man said, "not by climbing the waterfall."

"No, no, no," Esmé said hastily. "These aren't people we're expecting. These are some volunteers I found at the headquarters."

"Volunteers?" the woman said looking as confused as Esmé had been. Members of Olaf's troupe came over to see what was going on. We quickly untied the straps of the toboggan from our waists and faced the villains. It felt better that our faces were concealed of any traces of fear.

"We built a trap to capture your girlfriend, Olaf," Violet said, "but we didn't want to become a monster like you."

"They're idiotic liars!" Esmé cried. "I found them hogging the cigarettes, so I captured them myself and made them drag me up the waterfall like sled dogs."

I was tired of her nonsense and I was dying to see Sunny and Jane. So I hurried on with our request. "We're here for Sunny Baudelaire and Jamie Murray," I said, "and we're not leaving without them."

Olaf's frowned and his eyes grew very shiny. "And what makes you so certain," he said, "that I'll give you my prisoner just because you say so?"

I wasn't sure what to say that would make him give us Jane and Sunny. We couldn't say anything villainous to get our way. Then what other way could we convince him? But it was Violet who thought of the reply. And even I was taken aback by it.

"You will give us Sunny and Jamie," she said, "because we know where the sugar bowl is."

* * *

><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	24. The Last Safe Place

**Last chapter soooo Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: The Last Safe Place<strong>

Count Olaf uttered a gasp, his one eyebrow raising as he stared at us greedily. "_Where is it?_" he said, in a terrifying whisper. "_Give it to me!"_

Violet shook her head. "Not until you give us Sunny Baudelaire and Jamie Murray," she said.

"_Never!_" Olaf growled. "Without that big-toothed brat and that dumb blonde, I'll never capture the Baudelaire fortune or the Murray diamonds! You give me the sugar bowl this instant, or I'll throw you all off this mountain!"

"Wow, I'm so scared," Melissa muttered sarcastically.

"If you throw us off the mountain," I said, "you'll never know where the sugar bowl is." The only problem with Violet's plan was that we really had no idea what the sugar bowl was or where it was.

Esmé stepped towards Olaf. "We must have that sugar bowl," she snarled. "Let the baby and my stupid niece go. We'll cook up another scheme to steal the fortunes."

"But stealing the fortunes is the greater good," Count Olaf said. "We can't let either of them go."

"Getting the sugar bowl is the greater good," Esmé said, frowning.

"Stealing the fortunes," Olaf insisted.

"Getting the sugar bowl," Esmé retorted.

"Fortunes!"

"Sugar bowl!"

"_Fortunes!_"

"_Sugar bowl!_"

"That's enough!" the man with a beard but no hair ordered. "Our recruitment scheme is about to be put into action. We can't have you arguing all day long."

"We wouldn't have argued all day long," Olaf said a little embarrassed. "After a few hours—"

"We said that's enough!" the woman ordered. "Bring the baby and the girl over here!"

"Bring them at once!" Count Olaf ordered the white-faced women and the hook-handed man. "The baby's sleeping in her casserole dish and Blondie should be in that tent."

The two white-faced women carried the casserole dish over and the hook-handed man went inside the tent to retrieve Jane. In a few moments, the flap of the tent opened and the hook-handed man was pushing Jane out. I was glad I had my mask on because if the villains saw the smile that broke out across my face at the sight of her blond hair that seemed to look brighter than ever in the morning light. Her eyes were as blue as the clearest sky. There was a mark on her face that I knew had been caused by Olaf. She didn't seem like she was in pain, or at least she didn't show it. She looked befuddled as she tried to figure out what was going on. When her eyes rested on the four of us, she bit her lip and I knew she was trying to conceal her smile.

I was so absorbed in seeing Jane again after what seemed like forever that I almost didn't notice the villainous pair holding two shiny whistles similar to the one Count Olaf used while disguised as a gym teacher at Prufrock Preparatory School.

"Watch this, volunteers," the sinister man said. They blew their whistles and immediately the sky filled with a mass of darkness that I realized was caused by thousands of eagles swarming the skies.

"Look at these creatures!" the woman cried. "When the schism occurred, you may have won the carrier crows, volunteers, and you may have won the trained reptiles."

"Not anymore," Count Olaf interrupted. "All of the reptiles except one—"

"Don't interrupt," the woman interrupted, "You may have the carrier crows, but we have the two most powerful mammals in the world to do our bidding—the lions and the eagles!"

"Eagles aren't _mammals_," I cried in outrage, "They're _birds_!"

"They're _slaves_," the man said. They reached into their pockets and took out two long, frightening-looking whips. They cracked their whips and four eagles landed on the strange thick pads on their shoulders.

"These beasts will do anything we tell them to do," the woman said. "And today they're going to help us with our greatest triumph." She made a gesture with her whip and I could see there was a huge net spread out across almost the entire snowy peak. It stopped just at our feet. "On my signal, these eagles will lift this net from the ground and carry it into the sky, capturing a group of young people who think they're here to celebrate False Spring."

"The Snow Scouts," Violet said in a shocked voice that mirrored how I felt.

"We'll capture every one of those uniformed brats," the villainous man boasted, "and each one of them will be offered the exciting opportunity to join us."

"They'll never join you," I said fiercely.

"Of course they will," the woman said, "They'll either be recruited, or they'll be our prisoners. But one thing is for certain—we'll burn down every single one of their parents' homes."

I shuddered and I saw that Count Olaf seemed a bit apprehensive. "Of course," he said hastily, "the main reason we're doing all this is to get our hands on all those fortunes."

"Of course," Esmé said with an uneasy chuckle. "We'll have the Spats fortune, the Kornbluth fortune, the Winnepeg fortune, and many others. I'll be able to afford the penthouse apartment of every single building that isn't on fire!"

"Once you tell us where the sugar bowl is," the man with a beard but no hair said, "you can leave, volunteers, and take your friends with you."

"Not both," Olaf said, "only one. Make your choice."

"No way," Jane said, "if I go, Sunny goes."

"We're here for _both_ of them," I said firmly. "And we intend to leave with Jamie and Sunny."

"Fine," the woman said, "take them both. But wouldn't you and your friends rather join us?"

"No way in hell crazy bird lady!" Melissa spat, "We're not interested."

"I'm not joining you either," Jane said fiercely.

"It doesn't matter if you're interested or not," the woman said, scowling at Melissa. "Look around you. You're hopelessly outnumbered. Wherever we go, we find new comrades who are eager to assist us in our work."

"We have comrades, too," Violet said boldly. "As soon as we rescue Sunny and Jamie, we're going to meet up with the other volunteers at the last safe place, and tell them about your terrible scheme!"

"It's too late for that, volunteers," Count Olaf said in triumph. "Here come my new recruits!"

He uttered a horrendous laugh and gestured to where we could see the group of Snow Scouts as they walked in two straight lines up the path. Their masks had been removed now and I could instantly see Carmelita Spats leading them with a tiara on her head. She was smirking as they moved closer. Bruce stood beside her and he carried the Springpole and a huge cigar. I noticed his face looked vaguely familiar but I didn't give it much thought. There were far more pressing matters at hand.  
>"What are all you cakesniffers doing here?" Carmelita demanded. "I'm the False Spring Queen, and I order you to go away!"<p>

"Now, now, Carmelita," Bruce said. "I'm sure these people are here to help celebrate your special day. Let's try to be accommodating. In fact, we should try to be accommodating, basic, calm, darling—"

The scouts started their pledge. But Violet and I knew there was no time to wait for them to finish. "Bruce," Violet interrupted, "these people are not here to help you celebrate False Spring. They're here to kidnap all of the Snow Scouts."

"What?" Bruce said and smiled as if this was all a joke.

"It's a trap," Klaus said. "Please, turn around and lead the scouts away from here."

"That's ridiculous," Bruce said.

"It doesn't matter," Jane said, "They're going to try and trap you all if you don't get out of here."

"Pay no attention to these three masked idiots and their stupid blonde friend," Count Olaf said quickly, putting a filthy hand over Jane's mouth. "The mountain air has gone to their heads. Just take a few steps closer and we'll all join in a special celebration."

"We're happy to accommodate," Bruce said, "After all, we're accommodating, basic-"

"No!" Violet cried. "Don't you see the net on the ground? Don't you see the eagles in the sky?"

"The net is decoration," Esmé said with a fake smile, "and the eagles are wildlife."

"Decoration my ass," Melissa said, "Weird shit is going on here at the moment. If I were you I'd get your butts back down that mountain."

"And why would you believe some foul-mouthed, masked stranger over us?" Olaf said, "At least we're accommodating."

"That's true," Bruce said, "And so are we."

"Please listen to us!" I said. "You're in terrible danger!"

Carmelita glared at us and fixed her tiara. "Why should I listen to cakesniffing strangers like you?" she asked. "You're so stupid that you've still got your masks on, even though there aren't any snow gnats around here."

I glanced at Violet and I knew she was thinking what I was. It was true that we couldn't convince anyone of the truth while our faces were covered. I didn't want to reveal my disguise, but I didn't want to risk having these Snow Scouts kidnapped. Violet and I nodded and looked at Melissa and Quigley. They were nodding too. All four of us reached up and pulled our masks off for the greater good.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Jamie Murray<strong>_

I watched as the two Baudelaires, Quigley, and Melissa removed their masks. I couldn't help beaming, despite the malicious scheme of the sinister duo and Carmelita Spats's presence. I had known Klaus was alive since Violet told me, but seeing him standing there made it seem all the more real. He really had come for me.

I slipped out of Olaf's grasp, as he was too stunned to notice much. "Klaus!" I cried.

I ran to him, not caring about Count Olaf or Esmé or the sinister duo or Carmelita Spats. Klaus was here and as long as he was alive, everything would be okay. Klaus met my gaze as I approached and I didn't hesitate to smash right into him, my arms wrapping around his neck. Klaus' arms were around me too and I looked up to see that tears were glistening in his eyes.

"Jane," he said, softly and hearing my old name coming from Klaus was an enormous relief. Finally, I was someone other than Jamie Murray or 'Blondie' or all those other nicknames I'd ever received. I could be Jane. I could be myself.

"I thought you were dead," I whispered as I let go. Though if it were up to me, I'd never let go of Klaus again. I felt tears in my eyes as I said it.

"I thought I was going to die too," Klaus said as a tear rolled down his cheek, "but I came back. We couldn't leave you and Sunny like that."

I smiled and blushed a little before I glanced at the villains. Count Olaf's mouth had dropped open in shock. "You're dead!" he said to Violet. "You perished in the caravan, along with Klaus!"

Esmé looked at Klaus beside me. "You're dead, too!" Esmé said. "You fell off a mountain!"

"They came back for us," I said with a proud grin as I took Klaus's hand. Then, before I could think about what I was doing, I leaned up and gave Klaus a kiss on the cheek. "He wouldn't leave me here all by myself." Klaus looked startled and his cheeks turned pink slightly. I returned it with a sheepish grin.

"And you're one of those twins!" Olaf said to Quigley. "You died a long time ago!"

"I'm not a twin," Quigley said, "and I'm not dead."

"And _you're_ Melissa Sampson," the man with a beard but no hair with a growl. "I believe you have something that belongs to me."

She looked fiercely back at him but I could see her hands were trembling.

"You're supposed to be dead too," Count Olaf said to Melissa in a tone of obvious dislike. "You died in the fire at Heimlich Hospital along with the Murray file."

"Nope," Melissa said. "I escaped."

"And," Count Olaf sneered, "you're not a volunteer. None of you are members of V.F.D. You're just a bunch of orphan brats."

"I wouldn't say that," Melissa said, "We're all pretty useful kids."

"And that also means that you have the Murray file," Count Olaf growled. "Give it to me this instant you foul-mouthed girl!"

"That file doesn't belong to you," Melissa said, "and I'm not going to tell you or give you anything. It's Jane's now to keep!"

"I'm Jamie's legal guardian thanks to Esmé," Olaf bragged, "So that means it's mine, you filthy girl! Now hand it over!"

"I wouldn't bet on it, Uni," Melissa spat.

"Why you little—" Olaf began.

"Enough!" the woman with hair but no beard said. "We'll settle this later! Now if the older Baudelaires really did survive, there's no reason to worry about that stupid baby any longer."

"That's true," Olaf said, and looked at the white-faced women. "Throw the baby off the mountain!" he ordered.

From beside me, Klaus cried out in horror and I looked to see Violet doing the same. I bit my lip so I wouldn't reveal Sunny's plan. I was glad that I knew she was safe. I watched as the white-faced women glanced at the casserole dish and then exchanged looks. They slowly looked at Count Olaf but were frozen.

"Didn't you hear me?" Olaf asked. "Throw that baby off this mountain!"

"No," one of the white-faced women said and I looked on in disbelief.

"_No?_" Esmé asked, startled. "What do you mean, _no?_"

"We mean no," the white faced woman said and the other nodded. They put the casserole dish down.

"We don't want to participate in your schemes anymore," the other white-faced woman said with a sigh. "For a while, it was fun to fight fire with fire, but we've seen enough flames and smoke to last our whole lives."

"We don't think that it was a coincidence that our home burned to the ground," the first white-faced woman said. "We lost a sibling in that fire, Olaf."

Count Olaf pointed at them in anger. "Obey my orders this _instant!_" he screamed.

However, the white-faced women just shook their heads and began to walk away. They walked past Olaf, Esmé Squalor, past the sinister duo, past the five of us, past the other members of Olaf's troupe, and passed by Bruce and the rest of the Snow Scouts. They reached the path and began to walk away from the peak.

Count Olaf uttered a frightening roar and jumped up and down on the net. "You can't walk away from me, you pasty-faced women!" he hollered. "I'll find you and destroy you myself! In fact, I can do anything myself! I'm an individual practitioner, and I don't need anybody's help to throw this baby off the mountain!" He laughed nastily and picked up the casserole dish. He walked over to the edge of the half-frozen waterfall.

"_No!_" Violet cried.

"_Sunny!_" Klaus screamed.

"Say good-bye to your baby sister, Baudelaires!" Count Olaf said and smiled triumphantly.

"I'm not a baby!" Sunny called from where I knew she was hidden. She came out from behind the flat tire of Olaf's car and ran to Violet and Klaus. She hugged Violet and then, Klaus who had to take off his glasses to wipe his tears. Sunny then turned to give me a giant hug that I returned. Even though I knew about Sunny's plan, I felt tears come to my eyes too. Finally, we were all together again. Of course, with the addition of Quigley and Melissa. "I'm not a baby!" Sunny said again, turning to Olaf with a triumphant grin.

"How could this be?" Count Olaf said and he saw the eggplant inside.

"Babganoush!" Sunny cried, meaning, "Jane and I concocted an escape plan with the eggplant that turned out to be even handier than I thought." The eggplant fell out of the casserole dish and landed at Olaf's feet.

"Nothing is going right for me today!" Olaf cried. "I'm beginning to think that washing my face was a complete waste of time!"

"Don't upset yourself, boss," Colette said in concern, "I'm sure that Sunny and Jamie will cook us something delicious with the eggplant."

"That's true," the hook-handed man said. "They're becoming quite the cooks. The False Spring Rolls were quite tasty, and the lox was delicious."

"It could have used a little dill, in my opinion," Hugo said.

We ignored them and faced the Snow Scouts.

"Now do you believe us?" Violet asked Bruce. "Can't you see that this man is a terrible villain who is trying to do you harm?"

"Don't you remember me?" I said to Carmelita. "I didn't set that fire. That woman over there did it. You should remember her. She was our headmistress, Mrs. Marshall. But she's really a horrible woman who is trying to harm you."

"Count Olaf had a terrible scheme at Prufrock Prep," Klaus added. "and he has a terrible scheme now!"

"Of course I remember you," Carmelita said. "You're those cakesniffing orphans who caused Vice Principal Nero all that trouble. And I could never forget you Jane. You're the cakesniffer who had to spend everyday cleaning the cafeteria just to afford to go to school there." She snickered then she looked at the woman with hair but no beard. "She can't be Mrs. Marshall. You're obviously lying, Jane. Everyone knows you did it. That's why you were expelled and that's why I was too." She looked angry. It was true, Carmelita loved it at the Ontario Boarding School for Girls because no one dared to mess with her. She could get away with pretty much anything. Though I didn't see what made Prufrock Prep too different. Carmelita still had the whole school believing that it was okay to tease orphans or people who Carmelita labeled as cakesniffers. "And now you're back to try and ruin my very special day with your idiotic friends! Give me that Springpole, Uncle Bruce!"

"Now, now, Carmelita," Bruce said. But Carmelita had already snatched the Springpole from Bruce. I noticed when I first saw him that he had looked very familiar. Now I realized he was Carmelita's uncle. Actually, I knew about the Snow Scouts as well, since Carmelita hiked with the group every year. She would come back and brag to me about how she got to be False Spring Queen every time. She would get a new tiara every time and display them in our room. Anyways, Carmelita walked across the net toward the source of the Stricken Stream. The sinister duo grasped their whips and raised their whistles to their mouths. But I knew they were waiting for the rest of the scouts.

"I crown myself False Spring Queen!" Carmelita announced. She laughed nastily and elbowed us aside to drive the pole into the half-frozen top of the waterfall. There was a sound like something shattering and I could see a huge crack was making its way down the center of the waterfall. I gasped in horror.

"What are you looking at?" Carmelita asked scathingly. "Everybody's supposed to be doing a dance in my honor. You dance Jane. I'm the False Spring Queen and I order you to dance in my honor."

"I don't take orders from you anymore," I said firmly, "you've caused me enough misery."

"That's right," Count Olaf said, ignoring me, "why doesn't everybody step forward and do a dance in honor of this darling little girl?"

"Sounds good to me," Kevin said and led the other troupe members onto the net. "After all, I have two equally strong feet."

"And we should try to be accommodating." the hook-handed man said. "Isn't that what you said, Uncle Bruce?"

"Absolutely." Bruce agreed. "Come on, Snow Scouts, let's recite the Snow Scout Alphabet Pledge as we dance around the Springpole."

They cheered and followed Bruce onto the net. They began to recite their pledge and I looked at Klaus.

"What do we do?" I said in despair, "They won't listen to us."

"I don't know," Klaus said, "we've tried to convince them. But nothing works."

"They can't get away with this," I said, "Carmelita and some of those Snow Scouts may have bullied me at school but that doesn't mean I want them to suffer the way I have…. the way you have."

"I know," Klaus said, "any minute they could lift that net. There's nothing we can do."

I watched as the Snow Scouts got to the word 'innocent' and frowned to myself.

"No," I said, fiercely. "Even if they're captured, there's still something we can do."

I reached into my snowsuit and pulled out the owl figurine. I aimed it at the site of the Snow Scouts happily dancing and singing. If they were going to be captured, I had to use this to get evidence of the scheme. Count Olaf wouldn't get away with this. Not this time. He may have gotten away with many things like killing Jacques Snicket while I watched helplessly, but I couldn't let him get away with something as horrifying as kidnapping all these children.

"What are you doing?" Klaus asked curiously.

I pointed to the owl figurine. "It's really a camera," I said. "At least, we can be sure that Count Olaf won't get away with this for long."

Klaus' eyes widened. They were about to speak but the scouts were reciting their pledge and reached the word 'xylophone' just as the sinister man cracked his whip. The eagles on their shoulders, lifted them high in the air, and as the pledge was ending, the woman blew her whistle. We watched in horror as the eagles dove to the ground and picked up the net. They lifted everyone standing on it into the air so that they were one giant heap inside the net. Including Olaf's associates. Only Carmelita Spats had escaped the net because she was standing next to Count Olaf and Esmé.

"What's going on?" Bruce asked Count Olaf. "What have you done?"

"I've triumphed," Count Olaf said, "_again_. A long time ago, I tricked you out of a reptile collection that I needed for my own use." I gasped along with the Baudelaires as we realized why we recognized Bruce from. He wasn't just Carmelita's uncle. I met him at Uncle Monty's house as well. "And now, I've tricked you out of a collection of children!"

"What's going to happen to us?" a Snow Scout asked in fear.

"I don't care," another said. "Every year we hike up to Mount Fraught and do the same thing. At least this year is a little different!"

"Why are you recruiting me, too?" the hook-handed man asked. "I already work for you."

"Don't worry, hooky," Esmé answered in a mocking tone. "It's all for the greater good!"

"Mush!" the sinister man cried as he cracked his whip in the air. The eagles began to carry the net away from Mount Fraught.

"You get the sugar bowl, the Murray file, and our lighters from those bratty orphans, Olaf," the woman demanded, "and we'll meet up at the last safe place!"

"With these eagles at our disposal," the sinister man said, "we can finally catch up to that self-sustaining hot air mobile home and destroy those volunteers!"

We all gasped in shock again, exchanging horrified glances. We all knew they were talking about destroying Duncan, Isadora, and Hector.

"We'll fight fire with fire!" the woman with hair but no beard cried triumphantly and the eagles carried the pair away.

Count Olaf muttered something under his breath and turned to begin creeping towards us, the Baudelaires in particular.

"I only need one of you to learn where the sugar bowl is," he said with shiny eyes, "and to get my hands on the fortune. But which one should it be?"

I stepped forward and in front of the Baudelaires. "Get away from them!" I cried. "None of them are going anywhere but far away from you."

Olaf laughed nastily. "We'll see about that, Blondie." he said, "Face it, your pathetic friends have nowhere to run. They're hopelessly trapped. Two of them will die whether you like it or not. Now which one should it be?"

"That's a difficult decision," Esmé said. "On one hand, it's been enjoyable having an infant servant. But it would be a lot of fun to smash Klaus's glasses and watch him bump into things."

I gripped Klaus's arm, afraid that any moment, he would be taken away from me again. I still held the owl figurine in my other hand and even though I was trembling in fear, I tried to capture this moment as best as I could.

"But Violet has the longest hair," Carmelita volunteered, as we all backed toward the cracked waterfall. I stayed in front of the Baudelaires. I couldn't let any of them die. It was my fault Violet and Klaus almost died before. I couldn't be responsible for their deaths once more. I couldn't lose them. "You could yank on it all the time, and tie it to things when you were bored."

"Those are both excellent ideas," Count Olaf said. "I'd forgotten what an adorable little girl you are. Why don't you join us?"

"Join you?" Carmelita asked.

"Look at my stylish dress," Esmé said to her. "If you joined us, I'd buy you all sorts of in outfits."

Carmelita looked from us to the villains. I glanced at the Baudelaires, Quigley, and Melissa. Carmelita was already nasty enough to me and to think of her teaming up with these terrible villains was dreadful.

"Carmelita," I said, "please don't join them. You've been awful to me in the past because I've never had any parents. If you join them, you'll be an orphan just like me. You won't even be able to afford to go back to Prufrock Prep if you wanted to. They'll make you lose everything."

"Why would you listen to her, Carmelita?" Olaf said, "After all, she is what you referred to as a 'cakesniffer'."

"That's true," Carmelita said narrowing her eyes at me. "You weren't even cool enough to be apart of my special club."

"That's because you locked me in a shed," I said, a little angrily. Then I sighed. "But that doesn't matter Carmelita. It doesn't matter that I'm a cakesniffer. We've known each other for so long. And you've just met these people. How could you trust people you barely know? Those villains with the eagles are responsible for my expulsion, as I already mentioned. Why would you want to join people who are working with them?"

"Don't listen to Blondie," Count Olaf said, "she's just upset because she wants all those fashionable outfits for herself."

"Don't believe them Carmelita," Quigley said and took out his notebook. "They'll burn down your parents' house. I have the evidence right here, in my commonplace book."

"What are you going to believe, Carmelita?" Count Olaf asked. "A silly book and a stupid girl, or something an adult tells you?"

"Look at us, you adorable little girl," Esmé said. "Do we look like the sort of people who like to burn down houses?"

"Carmelita!" I cried. "You can't do this!"

"Carmelita!" Violet cried. "Don't listen to them!"

"Carmelita!" Klaus cried. "Don't join them!"

"Carmelita!" Melissa cried. "Listen to us!"

"Carmelita!" Sunny cried which meant, "You're making a monstrous decision!"

"Carmelita," Count Olaf said in a nauseatingly sweet voice. "Why don't you choose one orphan to live, and push the others off the cliff, and then we'll all go to a nice hotel together."

"You'll be like the daughter we never had," Esmé said as she stroked her tiara.

"Or something," Olaf added.

Carmelita looked at us and then smiled at the two villains.

"Do you really think I'm adorable?" she asked.

"I think you're adorable, beautiful, cute, dainty, eye-pleasing, flawless, gorgeous, harmonious, impeccable, jaw-droppingly adorable, keen, luscious, magnificent, nifty, obviously adorable, photogenic, quite adorable, ravishing, splendid, thin, undeformed, very adorable, well-proportioned, xylophone, yummy, and zestfully adorable," my villainous aunt pledged, "every morning, every afternoon, every night, and all day long!"

"Don't listen to her!" Quigley begged. "A person can't be 'xylophone'!"

"Carmelita," I said, "it's not worth it! Please don't do this!"

"I don't care!" Carmelita said. "I'm going to push these cakesniffers off the mountain, and start an exciting and fashionable new life! And I say Jane goes first!"  
>"Now, Carmelita," Olaf said, "Blondie won't be going anywhere. But you can throw two of the Baudelaires off."<p>

We took another step back, edging closer to the frozen waterfall. Violet was tying her ribbon up in her hair and Melissa was digging around in her pocket for something useful. I thought about trying to use my Matilda powers. I recalled that incident with the bald man when I had accidentally whacked him on the nose with that tree branch. It was definitely windy already but there was nothing to really whack them with. Of course, I didn't think violence was a good way to help us. I didn't want to be villainous like Count Olaf.

I moved farther in front of the Baudelaires to shield them, still holding Klaus' hand especially tight.

"Poor Baudelaires," Count Olaf said in a mocking voice. "You might as well give up. You're hopelessly outnumbered."

"We're not outnumbered at all," Klaus said. "There are six of us, and only three of you."

"I count quadruple because I'm the False Spring Queen," Carmelita said, "so you are outnumbered, cakesniffers."

"Rosebud!" Sunny cried menaing, "In some situations, the location of a certain object can be much more important than being outnumbered."

The villains gasped as Violet climbed onto the toboggan followed by Quigley and then Melissa. Klaus climbed on next. Sunny looked up at me as we realized that this toboggan might not be big enough for us all to fit on.

"Look they're getting away!" Esmé cried.

Sunny climbed on and tried to make room. But before I could try to step onto the toboggan, I was suddenly yanked back by my hair.

"Not so fast, Blondie," Olaf snarled and pulled me away from the Baudelaires.

"No!" Violet cried.

"_Jane!_" Klaus cried.

"Releasher," Sunny said meaning, "Let her go!"

"I'm not letting this one out of my sight." Olaf said, pinning my arms to my sides, "But you wouldn't dare abandon your poor friend, right? Now climb off of that toboggan so we can decide which Baudelaire will survive."

"All of them," I spat.

"Quiet you," Olaf growled and yanked my hair further.

The Baudelaires exchanged glances of dismay.

"No!" I cried, "Don't! Leave me behind! I'd rather that then lose you!"

The Baudelaires looked at Quigley and Melissa and then they all looked at me in concern.

"Make your decision," Olaf said, "Leave your friend behind or stay so one Baudelaire will be in my clutches."

I looked desperately at Klaus because I knew that they would probably decide to stay for me. But they shouldn't. I knew they couldn't. Klaus stared back at me in horror.

Suddenly, there was a strange rustling noise above us along with some cries that sounded as if they belonged to an animal of some sort.

I looked up and saw an owl dive down, swooping over to land at my feet. It dropped the letter in its beak and hooted at me.

"It's just a stupid bird," Esmé said, "with one of those letters." She reached down to pick up the letter but the owl nipped her finger. "Ugh! That owl _bit_ me!"

"It's my letter!" I cried and tried to slip out of Olaf's grasp, but his bony hands gripped my arms tightly.

Esmé kicked at the owl and it jumped, flying away from us.

"Stupid bird," Esmé said and grinned triumphantly. She picked up the letter and ripped it down the middle. I sighed. Not _again_.

However, just as I thought that was all, there was an enhanced rustle and more cries coming from above. The villains gasped again and so did the Baudelaires, Quigley Quagmire, and Melissa Sampson. Melissa pointed to the sky and when I followed her gesture, I could see the sky had darkened again. Except this time it wasn't because a million eagles were filling it. Instead, there were hundreds of owls. Each owl carried a letter in its beak.

I brightened as the owls swooped down as one. Some swooped low to the ground, making the villains shriek.

"What is this madness?" Olaf cried, still gripping me so tight as I struggled that I could already feel it leaving a mark. "There are hundreds of them!"

The owls began to drop the letters, which fell, like millions of snowflakes all over the ground. One owl soared towards us. It was a familiar looking owl that seemed to look almost like the owl of the figurine.

"Spirit!" I called in amazement.

Olaf uttered a roar and tried to whack at Spirit who dodged it. He landed on Olaf's head, forcing him to let go of me so he could try and get Spirit off. Spirit dodged Olaf's attempts to grab him and additional owls came with even more letters.

Instead of trying to catch a letter though, I stole this opportunity to hurry over to the Baudelaires who were watching in astonishment. Esmé, Carmelita, and Olaf were all trying to shoo the owls away, grabbing as many letters as they could carry.

My friends started to squish to make room for me, but I knew I wasn't going with them.

"I can't go with you," I said when I reached them. I spoke mostly to Klaus though and watched his face fall. "There isn't any room and it wouldn't be safe. Nevertheless, you have to go. Get out of here now while they're distracted."

"But Jane," Klaus said, rising from the toboggan. Tears filled his eyes again. "We can't leave you behind again. Not this time. You won't be safe with them either."

"It'll be okay, Klaus," I said, taking his hands in mine. I felt tears in my own eyes again. I had been so close this time. However, if I went with them, I knew we would perish from the toboggan carrying too much weight. "I can take care of myself. Besides, we're all heading to the same place, aren't we? We'll meet again, I promise."

Klaus frowned. "That still won't make things okay," he said.

"I'll come back," I said, "because you came for me." The corners of Klaus' mouth twitched into a small smile. Again, I gave Klaus a kiss on the cheek. "Take care," I said gently. "Now go before they catch all of us."

"Wait," Klaus said and before I could register what was happening, I was in a tight hug. I let go after a moment and waved half-heartedly as he stepped onto the toboggan.

"I'll find you again, Jane," Klaus said, "no matter what."

I nodded. "I know," I said, wiping a tear away from my eye.

The others waved sadly before Violet steered them down the waterfall. I stood close enough to the edge of the waterfall so I could see them race toward the stream. As they slid, the waterfall cracked and water began to slowly reappear from underneath the icy surface. I watched them disappear until they were tiny specks.

Fresh tears ran slowly down my cheeks. There was a rustle at my feet and I looked down to see Spirit with a letter in his beak.

"Thanks," I said, wiping my eyes and taking the letter. "I'll save it for later." I stuck it in one of the pockets of my snowsuit. I would find out what the letter was all about. Once I was alone.

"You can go now," I said to Spirit and leaned down to pet his soft feathers. "Tell the others too, okay?"

Spirit gently nibbled my hand and then flew off. Soon the other owls were following behind until all that was left were more letters and some loose feathers on the snowy ground.

I watched Spirit fly in the direction that the Baudelaires were headed.

Suddenly, someone placed a hand on the top of my head and I realized Count Olaf was standing beside me, towering over me, as usual. He peered over the cliff, watching the Baudelaire's escape.

"We'll be right behind you Baudelaires!" Count Olaf roared as they raced away. "Meanwhile, I've got this little prisoner to deal with!" He laughed wickedly and then shoved me to the ground.

"Poor Jamie," Olaf said mockingly as he towered over me. "Abandoned once again by the people you call your friends. And now it looks like they're going to perish!" He pointed his other scraggly hand at the waterfall. I could see the enormous crack as it widened and water came gushing out. "Surely, they won't survive all that water. I admit that I'm a little disappointed."

"No you're not," I said getting up and brushing the snow off, "you want them to be dead."

"I do," Olaf said, "but I was hoping to do that myself. At least I still have one orphan with an enormous fortune and soon I'll have all the fortunes of my new recruits."

"It's too bad your brat friends are so naïve," Olaf went on, "thinking they can escape using the Stricken Stream at this time of year."

Esmé had approached in her strange dress with Carmelita beside her. "Foolish, just like their parents were," Esmé sneered, "they think they're so clever. Yet, I'm sure they have no clue what the last safe place of V.F.D even is."

"That's because they're cakesniffers," Carmelita announced, "And I'm the False Spring Queen and I order that cakesniffer to do anything I say."

"No way," I said. Not _this_ again.

"Esmé," Carmelita whined, "tell Jane that she has to do everything I say."

"Of course, you adorable little girl," Esmé said, "Jamie will do anything you want her to do for you."

"Now go pack the trunk, you pathetic girl," Olaf ordered. "We're going right now so we can catch up to the Baudebrats and slit their throats."

The villains laughed cruelly and I sighed as I went to the tent to pack up the car. I grabbed all the bags and soon everything was loaded into the trunk. I stared miserably at the sky where the owls had just been moments before. I hoped that I had done the right thing by letting the Baudelaires go without me. For now, I would just have to stay here and perhaps continue spying on Olaf.

"That no life lives for ever;" I sang the lyrics from _The Garden of Proserpine_ by Algernon Charles Swinburne that I learned on one of my many visits with Monty Kensicle.

"_That dead men rise up never;_

_That even the weariest river_

_Winds somewhere safe to sea."_

_**Klaus Baudelaire**_

The toboggan raced down the slope as Count Olaf hollered at us as we tried to escape.

"He won't be right behind us," Violet said. "My shoes punctured his tire, remember?"

Quigley nodded. "And he'll have to take that path," he said. "A car can't go down a waterfall."

"We'll have a head start," Violet said. "Maybe we can reach the last safe place before he does."

"Overhear!" Sunny cried. "Hotel Denouement!"

"Good work, Sunny!" Violet said with pride as she steered the toboggan. "I knew you and Jane would be good spies."

"And we'll see Jane again," Melissa said, trying to reassure me.

I knew as long as she was with Olaf, she would most likely make it to Hotel Denouement. Though I wasn't sure how we would. After all, we were sledding down a waterfall that was cracking into the great unknown. We had no idea where this stream would take us and even if we did. We had no idea where Hotel Denouement even was or how to get there. At least we had Quigley with us. He could probably draw us a map once we were on land again.

"Hotel Denouement," Quigley said. "I think I have that in one of my maps. I'll check my commonplace book when we get to the bottom."

"Bruce!" Sunny cried.

"That's another thing to write down in our commonplace books," I agreed. "That man Bruce was at Dr. Montgomery's house at the end of our stay. He said he was packing up Uncle Monty's reptile collection for the herpetological society."

"Do you think he's really a member of V.F.D.?" Violet asked.

"I can't answer that," Melissa said, "but he doesn't seem like a very good one."

Quigley sighed. "We've managed to investigate so many mysteries," he said, "and yet there's still so much we don't know." He paused to gaze below us at the ruined headquarters. "My siblings—"

The toboggan interrupted Quigley as it began to spin out of control, despite Violet's efforts to steer it. We screamed and Violet gripped the straps tightly, however, they broke. "The steering mechanism is broken!" she shouted. "Dragging Esmé Squalor up the slope must have weakened the straps!"

"Uh-oh!" Sunny cried meaning, "That doesn't sound like good news."

"At this velocity," Violet said, "the toboggan won't stop when we reach the frozen pool. If we don't slow down, we'll fall right into the pit we dug."

All this spinning made me dizzy and I had to close my eyes. "What can we do?" I asked.

"Drag your shoes against the ice!" Violet hollered. "The forks should slow us down!"

So we hurriedly dragged the forks of our shoes against the ice. At least, the bit of ice that still remained. Sunny only watched and listened, as she didn't have any fork-assisted climbing shoes. Though it wouldn't have made a difference if she had been able to help because the ice was far too thin and we were going so fast that it was hardly enough to slow us down even a little bit.

"It's not enough!" I cried. I could now see the pit we had dug as we spun closer and closer to the bottom of the waterfall.

"Biscupid?" Sunny asked, meaning, "Should I drag my teeth against the ice, too?"

"It's worth a try," I said but Sunny's teeth did little to stop the toboggan from racing towards our doom.

"That's not enough, either," Violet said and I could see she was concentrating very hard on finding a solution.

"Hang on!" she cried abruptly. Violet dropped the broken straps she had still held and reached into her pocket for a long bread knife. Violet grit her teeth, leaned out of the spinning toboggan and thrust the knife into the ice as hard as she could.

There was some sort of eruption as the ice shattered like glass and with a gigantic _whoosh!,_ water rushed down the slope. We became immersed in water, still clutching the toboggan. I couldn't make sense of what was happening but I could no longer sense Melissa's presence and when we reached the surface, it appeared Jane had been right. The toboggan could only bear so much weight and I could see Quigley and Melissa had fallen off.

"_Quigley!_" Violet screamed.

"_Melissa!_" I called.

"_Violet!_" Quigley hollered.

I spotted our two friends clinging onto some pieces of wood. They were being dragged down one tributary while we were floating down another.

"Quigley!" Violet screamed.

"Violet!" Quigley called back again.

"We'll meet again!" Melissa yelled to us. "I'll be able to see it! Just wait for us! Wait for us at—"

Before we could hear the location Melissa was trying to scream to us, the two tributaries separated us.

"_Quigley!_" Violet called and I could see she was crying. "_Melissa!_"

"They're alive," I said, trying to remain calm for Violet. I held onto Violet so she wouldn't topple into the water too. Tears came down my own face as well. I was leaving behind my friends. Jane, Quigley, and Melissa were all going separate ways. "They're alive, and that's the important thing."

"Intrepid," Sunny said, meaning, "They have both survived horrible circumstances multiple times. If they can both survive fires, I'm sure they'll make it through this too."

"But we're supposed to wait for them…for him," Violet said, "and we have no idea where."

"Maybe Quigley's going to try to reach his siblings before the eagles do," I said, "and perhaps Melissa will continue searching for her father. But we don't know where any of them are or in Melissa's case, who her father is."

"Hotel Denouement?" Sunny suggested. "V.F.D.?"

"Klaus," Violet said, "you saw some of Quigley's research. Do you know if these two tributaries ever meet up?"

I shook my head. "I don't know," I said, "Quigley's the cartographer."

"Godot," Sunny said which meant something like, "We don't know where to go, and we don't know how to get there."

"We know some things," I said. "We know that someone sent a message to J.S."

"Jacques," Sunny said.

I nodded. "And we know that the message said to meet on Thursday at the last safe place."

"Matahari," Sunny said and I smiled. I pulled Sunny onto my lap to keep her from falling off.

"Yes," I agreed. "Thanks to you and Jane, we know that the last safe place is the Hotel Denouement."

"But we don't know where that is," Violet said. "We don't know where to find these volunteers, or if indeed there are any more surviving members of V.F.D. We can't even be certain what V.F.D. stands for, or if our parents are truly dead. Quigley was right. We've managed to investigate so many mysteries, and yet there's still so much we don't know."

We nodded sadly. It always seemed as though we were so close to solving all kinds of mysteries about V.F.D. but the closer we got, the more questions there were to answer.

I had no clue what was to come. I didn't know what would happen at the Hotel Denouement or how my siblings would get there, but I knew all I had to find Jamie again, was to follow his heart. And at this moment, his heart was winding down to the Stricken Stream to hopefully find what he hoped would be a safe place. _"For even the weariest river winds somewhere safe to sea."_

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><p><em><strong>Review! <strong>_

_**Also, thanks to all of my reviewers! **_

_**TGG will be posted as soon as i'm done with these dreadful exams :(**_


	25. Hotel Denouement

**Finally, TGG is here! I've been so busy with exams but now it's summer so i'll have plenty of time to update! :) ENJOY!**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Hotel Denouement<strong>

I stared out at the horizon where I could see the shapes of mountains, the mist making them appear almost as though I were dreaming it. I wished I was dreaming and not stuck in Olaf's clutches once more. I wished that I was with the Baudelaires, Quigley Quagmire, and Melissa Sampson instead. They had disappeared down the waterfall after almost being caught as well. I helped them escape, though there wasn't enough room on the toboggan for me to go with them.

"Pack the car at once you miserable girl!" Olaf demanded, storming over to me and interrupting my thoughts. "We're leaving to go to the last safe place. We'll be waiting in the car now be quick!"

He threw the car keys at me and I caught them before they could hit me in the face. Olaf snickered and then got inside the car along with Esmé and Carmelita.

I gazed out at the waterfall that was now gushing with fresh water. False Spring had made the temperatures rise and the ice had melted away. I sighed. Olaf and Esmé assumed it meant that the Baudelaires, Quigley Quagmire, and Melissa Sampson had perished. Of course, I couldn't know for sure whether that was true or not, but I knew by now that I couldn't let it get to me. I'd spent the past few days believing Klaus and Violet were dead only for them to show up with a rescue plan. I had to have faith in them. They've survived many things and I had faith that they would be okay this time too. That didn't mean I wasn't missing them terribly though. Now even Sunny was gone and I was alone once again in Olaf's clutches. I guess I should be glad that the others are at least safe from his filthy hands.

I had finished taking down the tents and loading the bags in the car when Olaf began to honk his horn repeatedly. He rolled down his window.

"Hurry up!" he called, "You're almost as slow as the baby brat!"

I sighed, slamming the trunk closed and getting in the backseat. The one good thing was that I didn't have to curl up in my usual spot on the floor of the car. Now there was enough room that I could have a seat to myself. However, I probably would rather be forced to sit on the floor again than beside Carmelita. She was already giving me that look that I knew meant she was going to make my life as miserable as possible again.

Olaf started the car and began to drive. Except, instead of moving in the usual fashion, the car seemed to be sinking on one side, making the drive feel awkwardly bumpy. Olaf brought it to a stop.

"What was that?" Olaf said as he got out of the car and inspected the wheels. He scowled. "It's a flat tire."

"Drat," Esmé said, "now we'll be behind."

"Fortunately," Olaf said, "there's a spare in the trunk." Olaf looked at me as I expected and I leaned back in my seat, wishing I could become invisible. "Blondie, go fix the tire. The spare is in the trunk and an air pump."

I got out as Carmelita made snickering noises at me.

"Jane the maid," Carmelita sing-songed.

I tried to ignore Carmelita as she called me by one of the many nicknames I received. Now Count Olaf and Esmé were laughing at me too. I just knew the moment Carmelita walked back into my life that I would be forced to relive every dreadful moment of my time at the Ontario Boarding School for Girls. It was bad enough that I was in the clutches of terrible villains and now the girl who had been nasty to me since the day we met was teaming up with them. It was like my worst nightmare come true.

I carried the spare tire from the trunk. It was flat now and I had to try pumping air into it until it was inflated. I just hoped it wouldn't burst. The worst part about it though was that I had to figure out how to take the flat tire off and then lift the inflated tire into place. In fact, I couldn't lift it more than an inch off of the ground.

With a grumble about how pathetic I was, Olaf finally got out, snatched the tire from me, and replaced it himself.

"Of course you couldn't do it," Olaf growled at me when he was done. "You're far too weak. You're too weak to escape me for long and too weak to save your boyfriend. Now get in the car, Blondie."

"Why does Jane have to come with us?" Carmelita complained as I got in. "She's the ultimate cakesniffer! We should throw her off the mountain instead."

"Believe me, Carmelita," I muttered, "if I had a choice, I wouldn't be here at all."

"We can't kill the orphan yet, darling," Esmé said, "We still have to get her fortune. I promise to buy you all sorts of in clothes with all that money."

Carmelita snickered at me. "I get to have all of your money," she bragged. "Just like the time I stole all the money you saved in that shoebox. What were you trying to do? Buy some parents?"

"I knew that was you," I muttered, "and no. I was saving up to buy earplugs so I could drown out all of your loud _snoring_."

Carmelita glared at me. "I don't snore," she said.

"That's right," Esmé said, "Don't listen to my stupid niece Carmelita. You're the loveliest girl I've ever laid my eyes on!"

Carmelita gave me a triumphant grin.

The car started again and this time there wasn't a problem with the wheels. Olaf drove the car down the mountain, going a little too fast for my preference. I was glad to be going away from the Mortmain Mountains that were filled with so much dread now. It made me sad to think that I might never see the mountains in their full glory.

"It's so much better not having to travel in a car full of your associates," Esmé said, "it's not nearly as crowded or noisy."

"You enjoy having me in the car, right?" Carmelita said.

"Of course, you adorable little girl," Esmé said, "in fact, when we get out, I'll let you wear any of my fashionable clothes that your little heart desires. I have a dress that looks like a carousel that would look gorgeous on you."

"You should definitely wear it," I said, hoping Carmelita might be lured into wearing Esmé's fashionable outfits so I wouldn't have to. "I did, but I'm sure it will look better on you."

"Of course it will," Esmé said.

Carmelita looked triumphant again and continued talking about how adorable she was. I wasn't happy with Count Olaf and Esmé for recruiting Carmelita of all people. But I knew that it would only be a matter of days before Count Olaf blows up at Carmelita.

I leaned over to Carmelita and said in a quiet voice. "You should give Count Olaf a nickname," I said.

"I guess Count Olaf is a cakesniffing name," Carmelita said. "I'll call him Countie!" She raised her voice. "Oh, Countie! Don't you think I'm the most adorable girl you've ever seen?"

I had to cover my mouth to hide my giggles at Count Olaf's irritated expression.

"Of course," he said, "Call me Count Olaf."

"That's a cakesniffing name," Carmelita said, "I'm going to call you Countie."

Olaf grumbled something that was too low for any of us to hear.

Finished with my meddling plans for now, I gazed out the window. We were no longer in the mountains and now the land had transformed into the ruins of the Hinterlands from the fire at Caligari Carnival. Wind caused debris to stir and be blown in every direction by the wind. I gazed mournfully at the site, feeling as if the entire world was going to go up in flames. It made me think of all those children caught in that net as Olaf's new recruits. The sinister duo had said that they would take part in burning down all of their homes. To think of all those children becoming orphans gave me a sinking feeling. Would I ever escape from Olaf's clutches? Would I ever be able to live in peace with the Baudelaires and our other friends? Would I ever have the chance to send Olaf to jail with all the evidence I've collected?

"Do you know who else has a cakesniffing name?" Carmelita chimed after a moment of silence. I was beginning to wish I really did have earplugs.

"Who?" Count Olaf said with a sigh.

"Jane Rumary," she sneered at me. "I've been telling you for years how awful your name is. It's way too boring."

"I agree," Count Olaf said with a wicked smile in my direction. "Jane Rumary is a horrible name."

"Well it's not my real name." I said.

"What are you talking about, cakesniffer?" Carmelita said, "Of course Jane is your name."

"Not anymore," I said, "I found out that my real name is Jamie Murray."

Carmelita gave me an odd look. "That's a cakesniffing name too," she said, "You probably had cakesniffing parents."

"My parents were—" I faltered. I had been meaning to say something to defend my parents, perhaps that they were good people. But I never knew them so I couldn't be sure. "Well, I don't know what they were. But they certainly weren't cakesniffers…"

"How can you know that?" Carmelita said. "They died before you even knew their names. And you didn't even know your real name until now."

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, I turned my gaze away from Carmelita, taking to looking at the view. Carmelita looked pleased that she had made me feel awful about myself once again. She was right though. I barely knew who I was. Even before, I was never really sure of my purpose.

"What are we going to do once we reach the hotel?" Esmé asked Olaf, changing the subject.

"Our comrades should arrive there before we do," Olaf said, "and so we'll be able to boss the recruits around as much as we want to. We'll make them slaves!"

Esmé laughed. "That sounds smashing!" she said, "I was hoping to go shopping for some fashionable outfits for Carmelita."

"We'll get there with plenty of time to spare," Olaf said, "though unfortunately, the poor Baudelaires won't be able to make it."

"Let's celebrate," Esmé said, "when we get to the hotel we should all go out to dinner at the innest restaurant and drink the innest wine!"

"All of my plans are finally coming together," Olaf said. "In no time, the last safe place will be turned to ashes. Announcing my triumph over the volunteers!"

I sighed and tried to drown out the rest of their conversation. The car ride was quite long, as we had to drive through the Hinterlands again. I laid my head back against the back of my seat and tried to get comfortable enough to sleep.

* * *

><p>I woke to someone shaking me roughly, and nearly jumped at the sight of Olaf's face in front of my vision. I gasped.<p>

"Wake up, orphan!" he growled even though my eyes were already open and shivers ran down my spine from being surprised like that. "We're here!"

"I-I'm u-up," I said, wishing he would stop shaking me.

He stopped shaking me, but grabbed my arm to pull me out of…the car. I was still trying to remember where I was. My neck ached from sleeping in that awkward position.

I squinted in the sunlight. The sun was setting, casting long shadows on a grassy lawn. Esmé and Carmelita were already out of the car and taking in the sight of the hotel. The hotel was slanted slightly and the sign on the hotel read HOTEL DENOUEMENT except that it was backwards as if I was looking at it through a mirror. The entire hotel was designed to look like a reflection and I didn't understand why until I saw the enormous pond on the lawn. Everything when reflected in the pond appeared to be readable. It was a strange way of designing the hotel but there were so many mysteries surrounding this organization that I wasn't that surprised.

A man came up to us, dressed in a uniform with one of those luggage carts. "May I assist you with your luggage?" he asked.

"Orphan, get the luggage out of the trunk," Olaf ordered and pushed me towards the trunk. I was still recovering from being shaken awake and I nearly tripped. I was in one of those states where you're awake but in a slight daze. I sighed and pulled the luggage out of the trunk. The bellboy looked like he wanted to help me, though he was probably afraid of getting under Olaf's wrath.

I carried the bags over to the bellboy who placed them on the cart. He began wheeling the cart towards the entrance.

"Follow me," he said.

"No," Olaf said, "_You_ follow _me_."

The bellboy nodded, letting Olaf go first.

"Let's go," Olaf said grabbing me by the earlobe and dragging me along with them as we traipsed to the entrance. The lawn along the edge of the walkway was nicely groomed. It seemed like a nice spot to sit with a good book or have a picnic.

I followed Olaf and his companions as they entered the hotel. Carmelita was skipping and Esmé was fawning over how adorable she was.

The lobby was crowded as guests waited in line at the enormous reception desk with the number 101 printed on the wall above it. Employees including more bellboys and some bellgirls rolled carts of luggage in the direction of the elevators with the above mark of the number 118. Waiters and waitresses served groups of people sitting on benches and chairs. I saw a few dogs going outside for walks while taxi drivers were bringing guests inside the lobby. I noticed some children playing while some adults studied maps. Some staff members were polishing the green wooden floors with the number 123 carved into it. One corner hosted a gigantic fountain, the water splashing onto the number 131 engraved on a smooth wall. However my favorite sight was the grand piano where a man wearing a tuxedo was playing the most amazing tune. The piano was branded with the number 152 and I found myself wanting to go over there to listen or play.

I felt a sharp tug on my ear and realized I had stopped walking to look around. I winced in pain and hurried so I wouldn't get hurt again as I trailed behind the villains. We approached one of the lines and began the miserable wait. It was worse that I was with Count Olaf who wouldn't stop talking about the Baudelaires being dead or committing crimes. Meanwhile, Carmelita said the tiniest comment and Esmé would act as if she just won a medal. The only good part was that Olaf stopped pulling on my ear for the moment. I just hoped that the Baudelaires would arrive soon. Could they have already arrived? Though se it might take a little longer depending on where that stream took them. I wondered if they even knew how to get here. I sighed. I couldn't let myself worry like that. I had to trust that the Baudelaires, Quigley, and Melissa were all on their way.

I could sense the letter inside my snowsuit. That strange message that kept coming everywhere I went. It must be urgent. So I would have to find a moment alone to look at it. If I could just escape the villains for a moment, I might be able to discover what it said.

"I'm just going to go listen to that pianist," I said, attempting to slip away when Olaf grabbed my wrist roughly.

"No you won't, Blondie," he growled. "You're not leaving my sight while we're in this crowded lobby."

"Why would you want to listen to that pianist?" Carmelita said, "He's as cakesniffing as the song he's playing."

"What do you know about music?" I muttered. "You don't even play an instrument."

"I do too," Carmelita argued, "I can play the guitar."

"Since when?" I said.

"Since I said so, cakesniffer," Carmelita said, "whatever I say goes."

"I'm sure you're smashing at playing the guitar," Esmé said to Carmelita and she sneered at me. "Carmelita's the most adorable girl in the world and you're nothing but a servant."

I averted my eyes as Carmelita, Esmé, and Count Olaf all laughed at me again. Was this constant humiliation ever going to end? Usually, I wouldn't let the insults get to me but it was different this time. Carmelita was provoking them as usual.

I was silent for the rest of the time we waited to get rooms. Then Olaf was pushing me in the direction of the elevators as the bellboy followed with the luggage.

We rode up the elevator to the eighth floor and I followed the villains down a hall with rooms on either side. Finally, Olaf paused at a door labeled 748.

"We'll be staying in this room," he said to Esmé, "and Carmelita will stay in that room." He gestured to the room next door, room 746.

"Where will I go?" I asked.

Olaf glanced at me. "I almost forgot you were here," he said. "You'll be staying with Carmelita."

"No way," we both said at the exact same time and then scowled at each other.

"I don't want to stay with Jane, Countie," Carmelita whined. "She's the biggest cakesniffer in the world."

"I lived with Carmelita for eight years," I said, "and I'm not going through that again."

"Perhaps there's a way that this adorable girl can stay with us," Esmé said.

"And Blondie gets a room to herself?" he said.

"Exactly," I said, eagerly.

Olaf scowled at me. "Nice try," he said, "but you're not getting any fancy treatment from me. You're a prisoner and I order you to share a room with Carmelita."

"Can I make Jane do anything I say?" Carmelita asked.

"Jamie will do anything you say, you darling little girl," Esmé said while I said "No way!" again.

Carmelita gave me a nasty look. "You have to do whatever I say or Countie will give you trouble, right?"

"That's right," Olaf said, giving me a wicked grin.

I sighed, grabbed my suitcase, and followed Carmelita reluctantly into the room we were being forced to share. There was a door on one of the walls of the room that connected to our room to the villains'. That made me a bit uneasy. How would I ever find time alone to open my letter? There was a bathroom to my right and a closet beside it. In front of the beds was a large shelf with a television perched inside a big, gapping portion. Beside the television was a small desk with a lamp and a wooden chair. I have never been to a hotel this fancy. I did stay at a motel when I was being transferred from Ontario, Canada to New York via plane though it wasn't nearly the same.

"I call the bed closest to the window," Carmelita announced and plopped onto the bed farthest from the door as if she was afraid I would steal it. The window was covered in ugly, thick curtains that let practically no light into the room. I went over to open them and observed the view. I could see the pond directly below and I stared into its dark, mysterious depths.

There were two relatively good-sized beds in here, fully made. Each bed had chocolates on the pillow that I suppose were served to make the guest feel welcome. I reached for mine a little greedily. I've only had chocolate once in my life well except in ice cream. Still, I loved it from the moment I first tried it and ever since I've been hoping to have more.

"Are those chocolates?" Carmelita asked.

I hid them behind my back. "Yes," I said, "but they have that orange stuff in the center that you don't like. There's some on your pillow."

Carmelita picked up the three pieces of chocolate and I thought I was safe until she got off of her bed.

"I want those chocolates too," she said, "give them to me at once, you cakesniffer."

"No," I said, "You have your own."

"You're just a servant," Carmelita said, "so they don't belong to you. Besides, you have to do everything I say so give them to me."

"No," I said fiercely. "It's not fair. I don't care what Count Olaf says. You're not the boss of me."

"I'd think twice before saying that, Blondie," a scratchy voice said and I jumped. Olaf stood in the doorway of the connector door-thing. He glowered at me and I gave him a sheepish look in return. "Carmelita," he said, "why don't you go see Esmé, I want to speak with the cakesniffer alone."

"Will you make her give me those chocolates?" Carmelita asked, trying to look sweet.

"Fine," Olaf grumbled as if he could care less about the chocolates.

Carmelita looked pleased and skipped past Olaf into the room where Esmé was. Count Olaf stepped further inside the room and closed the door.

"Am I in trouble?" I said, nervously.

"Not yet," Olaf said, "now sit down and be quiet so I can talk."

I sat down on the bed and closed my mouth. I couldn't help feel a little uneasy. What could he want? Did he know about the owl figurine? Or was this about my notebook? What other secret could he possibly want to discuss?

"Now, listen you," he began, "I don't want any funny business while we're here. You're not getting in the way of my plans again."

"I—" I began but Olaf cut me off.

"I'm talking orphan," he said curtly. "My associates will be lurking around every corner of this hotel and they know to bring you to me if you happen to sneak off anywhere. And if I do catch you causing any trouble, I'll lock you in this room until I'm through with my plans. Is that clear?"

I nodded.

"Speaking of my associates," he continued, "they're all villains of course. People who you probably have never met before but each one of them won't hesitate to snatch a little girl such as yourself. Especially, if they know who you are. So from this moment on, you're Jane Rumary again. Never tell anyone your real name unless you want to find yourself in your worst nightmare."

"Why?" I asked. "I still don't understand why my name is so important. Or why people want to hurt me because of it."

"I'm not here to answer your ridiculous questions about your parents," Olaf grumbled. "But I will tell you that your name is a magnet for danger. Of course it is, or your mother would never have changed it when she had the chance. Not everyone knows you're alive but you still shouldn't trust anyone. You never know who's pretending."

"And why should I listen to you?" I asked.

"You're lucky that I discovered you before anyone else did," Olaf growled. "Because if it had been anyone else, you would have been killed. So you'll listen to me because you're in my clutches and your little life depends on it."

"Well, what do I do if someone grabs me?" I said. "Scream?"

"It doesn't matter," Olaf said, "you get out of there or you die. Got it?"

This conversation was making me nervous. I thought the only villains I had to worry about were Count Olaf, Esmé, and Carmelita, and of course Olaf's associates. Now I had to worry about a hotel full of them.  
>"How can I tell whether they're a volunteer or a villain?" I asked.<p>

"You're also not allowed to associate with any volunteers," Olaf said, not answering my question. "Especially not Monty Kensicle. Is he at the hotel, Blondie?"

"How would I know?" I said, which was true. I suppose he might be here but if he were, it would be hard to track him down. After all, he wouldn't be using his own name and now I had to tell him the name Monty Kensicle was no longer safe either. "I haven't seen him in ages, unless, those letters are from Monty Kensicle. I mean I don't know anyone else who would send me a letter."

"They're not from any volunteer," Olaf said as if it were obvious. "But it shouldn't matter because you're never going to read any of those letters. I'll be watching very carefully in case any more come."

I sighed. "Well, if they're not from a volunteer, then why can't I read it?" I asked.

"Enough of your irritating questions," Olaf growled. "The point is, you're going to be with Esmé or me a lot. I already spoke to Esmé about not letting you leave our sights while we're here. So there won't be any opportunity for wandering off on your own unless you have a death wish. Understand?"

I nodded. "But I don't want to be bossed around by Carmelita," I said, "it's already bad enough that I'm stuck here."

"I don't care about that," Olaf said, "You'll do it because Esmé tells you to do it. Now hand over those chocolates or I'll make you."

I sighed and placed them in his filthy hand. "You're going to regret making Carmelita your…child or whatever," I said, "you don't know her like I do. She'll drive you crazy if you let her get what she wants."

"She's not my child," Olaf grumbled, clearly still bothered by that. "And it won't be so bad if you're life is a nightmare because of that adorable little girl."

"Well soon she'll be your worst nightmare too," I said, "it's already happening. You may think she's adorable now but soon she'll get to you. She's one of those people who will do pretty much anything for attention."

"I don't care what you think," Olaf said, "We're going out to dinner, Blondie. So you're coming because I have nowhere else to put you. But you'd better not ruin it. Tonight we're celebrating the deaths of your poor friends."

"How do you know they're dead?" I said.

"Do you really think they could survive their ride down that waterfall?" Olaf said, "They probably drowned or died of starvation." He laughed wickedly. "Though I admit, it would've been much less disappointing if your friends were alive. Besides, I was hoping to finish them off myself. It's a good thing I'll be getting all those fortunes from my new recruits and of course you. By the way, you better behave, or I'll send you to do hard labor with the rest of my employees. Now get ready, we're leaving soon."

He opened the door and went back inside his room. I thought I might finally have a chance to be alone but Carmelita came in right after, grinning from ear to ear as she stuffed her face with chocolates. It reminded me of one of my favorite books, _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_. I kind of hoped Carmelita would turn into a giant blueberry or something. She still had a pile of chocolates beside her and I eyed one, a plan forming in my mind.

Using my new skills, I made one of the chocolates float in thin air. Carmelita stared at it as if it were a ghost.

"What the—" she started and reached for the chocolate. I made it move out of her reach, above her head. She began reaching for it and then I made the other two chocolates float too. Carmelita looked at the chocolates in confusion and then she looked at me.

"What are you doing to my chocolates, cakesniffer?" she said. "They're floating!"

"I'm not doing anything," I said, "How could I make those chocolates float in midair? I'm not magical."

Carmelita huffed, knowing there was no real way to prove I did it. she tried to grab one of the chocolates but I made it fly over to my bed. I caught it and popped it into my mouth. Mission accomplished. Carmelita fumed at me.

"I know it's you," she said, "and I'm going to tell Esmé."

"Tell me what, darling?" Esmé asked from the doorway. She noticed the chocolates floating and her eyes narrowed at me. I let them drop, trying to look innocent.

"Those chocolates were floating because of Jane," Carmelita said, "she did it and she ate one."

"I know it was Jamie," Esmé said, stepping further inside and still glared at me. She held a shopping bag in one hand. "Because Jamie is a little _freak_." Carmelita and Esmé snickered at me.

"She's such a freak," Carmelita said, "that she's still wearing that ridiculous snow suit." They snickered.

"I brought you a fashionable outfit to wear to dinner," Esmé said to Carmelita. She pulled out a yellow dress with white daisies decorating every inch. "This will look adorable on you!"

Carmelita eagerly put the dress on and beamed. "Does it make me look like the most adorable girl in the whole wide world?"

"You look like the most adorable girl in the entire universe!" Esmé exclaimed.

"What should I wear?" I asked.

Carmelita and Esmé looked at me with matching glares. "You can't wear _that _to dinner," she said, "No one would wear a snowsuit to a dinner at an in restaurant."

"Fine," I said, "I'll wear something from my own clothes."

Esmé shook her head. "All of your clothes are old and not nice enough for a fancy restaurant," she said, "haven't you ever been to a fancy restaurant?"

"No," I replied. "I haven't exactly had the money for it."

"That's because she's a cakesniffer!" Carmelita exclaimed.

"I got you an outfit," Esmé said, "but I want it back." She pulled out one of her wacky outfits. I took the outfit from her and went to the bathroom to change.

I took the snowsuit off and put on the outfit that was far too big for me. The letter was still in my snowsuit and I pulled it out. Finally, I had my chance.

"Orphan!" Olaf's scratchy voice called. "Hurry up and get ready! Our reservations are for eight and you're not going to make us late!"

The doorknob began to turn and I quickly stuffed the letter back inside the snowsuit before he could see it. Olaf stood in the doorway, glaring at me.

"I'm coming," I said, picking up the snowsuit and walking past him. I put the snowsuit inside my suitcase. I tagged along with the villains as they went out the door and into the hall.

* * *

><p>The restaurant we went to was a little ways away from the hotel. Esmé wanted to dine somewhere inner and the restaurant certainly looked stylish. We were right in the city now and that was the only thing that pleased me. I've never really been in this part of the city at night when all the lights shined and the streets were busy with activity. The restaurant was huge and crowded with customers dressed in suits or dresses of all kinds. Customers sat at round tables with white table cloths draped over them, looking like marshmallows with bouquets as centerpieces. There was a small staircase that led to a more elevated section and near the front was a bar, nearly full of people.<p>

A waiter led us over to a table up the stairs where it was more secluded but just as elegant. Olaf sat down at the head and Esmé sat beside him and Carmelita beside her. The only empty chair was in between Olaf and Carmelita. I got in the seat, wishing I could blend in with the background. I was uncomfortable in such a place. I didn't feel like I belonged here but then again, I'd never felt that way about any place.

Carmelita began poking me with her fork, which had been a habit she picked up while we were at school.

"You're lucky you won't have to scrub the floors again," Carmelita said, "Remember that?" she snickered.

Of course I remembered. It felt like everywhere I went, I was treated like a maid. "Will you quit poking me?" I said, when she jabbed me hard in the ribs.

"Shut up, orphan," Olaf growled. "You're ruining our celebration of your friends' tragic deaths."

Carmelita grinned wickedly and poked me again, knowing I would get in trouble if I complained.

"Let's order the best bottle of wine," Olaf said, "and get on with our celebration."

The waiter took orders for drinks and Olaf ordered some really fancy kind of wine. I was forced to stick with water, of course.

"Once all our plans succeed," Esmé said, "we'll be able to dine at fancy restaurants every evening."

"And we'll be able to drink the most expensive wine every night," Olaf said as he eagerly poured himself a glass and drank.

Carmelita was looking at her menu eagerly. She smirked at me and I prepared for more humiliation coming my way.

"Remember that time when I dared you to eat salmon?" Carmelita said, jabbing at me with her fork again. "You ate it but every one could tell you hated every bite."

I grimaced. "I remember," I muttered and looked away.

"What can I have?" Carmelita asked the villains.

Esmé smiled and patted her head endearingly. I bit my lip and my eyes flickered to the table.

"You can have anything that your adorable heart desires," Esmé said.

"I'll have—" I started.

"You're not going to decide what you'll have," Olaf interrupted me with a sneer. "You can have a small cup of soup. I'll get my pay back when I have your fortune."

I sighed and looked away but the only other sights were of wealthy looking restaurant goers. This place wasn't very pleasant and it made me wish even more that I could be with the Baudelaires. I'd trade this all for cold, alphabet soup with Klaus again. I tried to comfort myself with the way we last left off. Nothing much had changed. I didn't tell him how I felt because there wasn't much time to do so. Though I had kissed him on the cheek a few times. Of course, that didn't mean anything but at least I got to see my best friend. I missed the Baudelaires far too much and this dinner to celebrate their deaths only made me feel worse.

* * *

><p>After spending a miserable time at dinner with Count Olaf, Esmé, and Carmelita, I was relieved to be going back to the hotel. I walked with the villains up the street lined with shops and more restaurants. They turned down a side street that opened onto a broad street surrounded on either side by dazzling lights from billboards and stores. Some of the billboards were advertisements for Broadway shows and as we came closer to the wide street, I realized where I was.<p>

They walked over the crosswalk along with billions of other people making their way to the very heart of New York; Times Square. I knew that Times Square also meant Broadway and I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized. I looked around at the place so foreign to me yet those lights seemed so welcoming. Broadway was like my version of paradise. I could just imagine standing on one of those stages, performing for millions of people. Finally, people wouldn't point and laugh at me for being an orphan, because in those moments when I imagined myself performing, I was someone else. Losing myself in a character that was far from the miserable, poor orphan whose name was a magnet for trouble.

"What in the world are you doing?" Esmé cried in exasperation as she clunked over to me in her heels.

I guess I had been so lost in my dreams that I forgot about whom I was with.

"I've never been here," I said, "I was only looking at the view because it's amazing. Far better in real life."

"Yes, yes," Esmé grumbled, "I'm sure you must think it's wonderful but we're not going to wait around while you look at a bunch of lights. Let's go."

She grabbed my arm and pulled me to where Count Olaf and Carmelita were waiting. Count Olaf looked agitated and Carmelita was too busy admiring her reflection in the window of Forever 21.

"Where was she?" Olaf started to growl. "I thought I told you not to wander off!"

"I found her staring at the lights," Esmé said.

"See," I said to Count Olaf, "I wasn't wandering, I just got distracted. It is the center of all Broadway."

"Well, I'm adding that to the list of things I'm forbidding you to do," Olaf grumbled. "No more observing things. You can look at the lights from the taxi window."

I sighed and tried not to 'observe things' again as I got inside the taxi Olaf had signaled.

* * *

><p>At last, I had managed to trail Count Olaf, Esmé, and Carmelita up to the hotel room without collapsing from exhaustion. The one thing that I was actually sort of looking forward to was sleeping in that comfortable looking bed. I couldn't remember the last time I had somewhere comfortable to rest my head at night and I couldn't wait to get underneath those covers, perhaps really sleeping for the first time in ages.<p>

Everything seemed to be fine until we reached the rooms. Standing not too far from us were two people I hoped I would never see again.

The sinister duo turned at the sound of our footsteps and their mouths turned up in smiles that made me want to bolt through that door and hide under the covers. I had been near the point of sleepwalking before they had appeared, but now I was wide awake. I could sense the noodles from the soup I ate this evening turning over in my stomach.

"Hello, Olaf," the woman with hair but no beard greeted him in her voice as low as a horn.

Count Olaf, Esmé, and Carmelita hadn't noticed them until the woman spoke and I saw Olaf and Esmé nearly jump out of their skin at the sound. Carmelita was a little surprised, but I don't think she understood that they were evil yet.

Olaf uttered a sound that was a cross between a cough and a nervous laugh. "I didn't see you there," he said with a nervous laugh. "It's good to see that you've made it to the hotel and that we happened to run into each other."

"We have the prisoners with us as planned," the man with a beard but no hair said in his hoarse voice. "And a few of your associates as well."

"Oh, right," Olaf said, "well you can let them go and send them to my room at once so I can give them orders. As for my new recruits, I'm sure I'll find a use for them in the near future."

"We're keeping them in the basement," the woman said quietly. "There's a room in there that's full of opportunities for children to do hard labor."

"You could send the Murray girl down there," the man suggested, frowning at me. I suppose they still hadn't gotten over how I made a rash break out on their skin.

"That won't be necessary," Olaf said, "besides, she'll probably create more trouble than she'll do any real labor."

"Not so different from her mother," the man went on. I dared myself to sneak a peek at his face and flinched under his dark eyes, like stones. Something about the man triggered something in my mind as if a switch had been turned on.

A memory flooded into my brain. I was lying in my crib as a baby, I suppose, when I was woken up by a strange creaking noise. I remembered the room being as dark as the night sky outside my window. But through the darkness, my eyes could spot a shady figure climbing into my room, through the window. The figure loomed in the small distance between my crib and the window. It advanced slowly, leaning over my crib greedily as if I were a box of chocolates, rather than a baby. I couldn't make out who this invader was but I met a pair of dark eyes like stones. That was when I had burst into cries for help.

I was brought out of my short snippet of memory as I returned to reality and those strange eyes that I may have seen many years ago. Though the memory had seemed so blurry that I couldn't be sure if it was only a dream.

"So are all of the recruits here?" Esmé asked. "Including the ones from the other destinations we planned."

The woman nodded. "We've already been collecting children from all the places that have been burned down. We have children from Prufrock Prepatory School, the New York Boarding School, and the Ontario Boarding School for Girls." She looked pointedly at me on the last name, in time to see my gasp.

"That's right little Jamie," she said, "Though I can't imagine why you would be so upset since those kids did you so much harm. I would assume you would want them to suffer the way you did all those years."

I dropped my gaze so I didn't have to look at her right in the eyes. The truth was, even after everything I've been through, maybe I resented those kids for bullying me but that didn't mean that I wanted them to lose their parents too. And of course, I had friends at the New York Boarding School and I never wanted them to suffer. I glanced at Carmelita who didn't seem bothered at all by the announcement.

"They're all cakesniffers anyways," Carmelita said, instead. I couldn't help but glare at her. She had friends from those schools as well. And now, when her friends were in danger, all she did was call them cakesniffers. Some friend she was.

The villains continued their conversation about the recruits and finally the sinister duo left. I followed Carmelita inside our room and went to bed for once. Though after the sinister duo appeared and I had that flashback, I was no longer in any mood for sleeping.

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><p><strong>Review! <strong>

**There's more to come in the next chapters! :)**


	26. Shopping and New Acquaintances

**New chapter! Sorry it took a bit! I've been so busy and the uploader wasn't working for me last night for some reason. Well, ENJOY! And don't forget to REVIEW!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Shopping and New Acquaintances<strong>

**_Jamie Murray_**

I woke to the bright light streaming through the window. My eyes opened onto a white ceiling and I turned my head to look around. I was in the hotel room and Carmelita was already awake, jumping on her bed. She noticed I was awake and leapt onto my bed, bouncing it in a rude greeting.

"Wake up Jane!" she said, still using my old name. She still didn't understand that I was Jamie Murray and not Jane Rumary. "Esmé is going to take me shopping today for all kinds of fashionable clothes while you do servant stuff like the cakesniffer you are. She started kicking me in the side until I finally got up and out of the bed. Carmelita snickered. "Your hair is a mess! Mine isn't though because I'm the prettiest girl in the world!"

"No you're not," I said, "there are tons of girls far prettier than you."

"Then how come someone wrote a book about how adorable I am?" Carmelita said she hopped off of my bed and searched the room until she produced a book. The book was called: _Carmelita Spats, Me: The Completely Authorized Autobiography of the Prettiest, Smartest, Most Darling Girl in the Whole Wide World. _

"I'm not stupid, Carmelita," I said, "it's an autobiography which means it was published by you."

"So what?" Carmelita said, "It's completely true and now people can read about how adorable I am."

"That doesn't sound very pleasant," I muttered, heading for the bathroom to finally take a shower. It's been a while since I've felt clean and I figured it would at least make up for anything unpleasant I would have to endure today.

By the time I was showered and dressed to face the day ahead, Esmé and Olaf were already barging into the room to fuss over Carmelita being endearing and make faces at me.

"We have so much time to spare," Olaf said, "I hate to waste it sitting around in this hotel."

"It won't be a waste at all," Esmé said, "I've been thinking of hosting an in cocktail party for all sorts of fabulous guests. I'm taking Carmelita shopping around the city to prepare. Parties are wonderful places to take care of unwanted guests."

"You have all day to plan," Olaf said, "Our associates want to meet us again to discuss our plans for the meeting and of course my new recruits. Then you can do all the shopping you want."

"Then let's go, darling," Esmé said, "all of this talk about our in cocktail party is making me excited."

"I want to lead the way," Carmelita announced. "Because I'm the prettiest, smartest girl in the whole world."

"You can lead all you want, you adorable girl," Esmé said, "Don't you think she's just the cutest girl you've ever laid your eyes on?"

I tried to drown out the noise as Olaf half-heartedly told Carmelita he thought she was the cutest girl he had ever laid eyes on and then Esmé gushed some more over Carmelita. After a few moments, Carmelita was leading the way out the door and into the hall.

I reluctantly walked with the villains as they went down a few floors. The elevator opened onto the bottom floor, the basement and Olaf was now leading us to a door marked 044. He knocked and the door opened, the sinister duo slipping out into the hallway. I tried to get a peek inside the room but it was too dark for me to see anything. The door closed and I stepped back as the two villains shared wicked grins.

"We thought we heard footsteps," the man with a beard but no hair said. "Now we can discuss our important business."

"Not in front of the orphan, of course," the woman with hair but no beard said, glowering at me. "That baby might have been helpless but I don't trust that one."

"Right," Olaf said and then turned to glare at me. "Stay out in the hall you ugly girl and don't move an inch. I already warned you about what would happen if you wandered off."

I nodded, glumly and the villains began to enter the room. Carmelita was about to follow when the woman put an arm out to stop her.

"You're going to have to stay outside too," she said, "we can't have children listening in on our plans."

"But I'm the prettiest, most smartest girl in the whole world," Carmelita argued.

"I'm sorry, Carmelita," Esmé said, patting her head. "But this is an adult discussion. I promise we'll go shopping afterwards. You can boss around Jamie to pass the time if you want."

Esmé made Carmelita step out of the room and the door closed, leaving me stuck in the hallway with Carmelita.

"Looks like life with Esmé and Olaf isn't so great after all," I said, sitting down with my back against the wall. "You're not even allowed to listen to their plans or learn any information. All you are is Esmé's pet."

"At least I'm not a slave," Carmelita said, "and Esmé thinks I'm adorable. You're her niece and she told me you were like a fly that just wouldn't go away."

"Well, you can tell Esmé that I don't like her either," I spat, getting up and starting to pace. I don't know why Carmelita getting so much attention from Esmé bothered me. It was ridiculous really. Esmé never liked me anyways and she was a villain. I shouldn't care. But I did. And that was something I couldn't explain.

"It doesn't matter what she tells you, Carmelita," I said, "No matter how much Esmé likes you…it won't change anything. She's a terrible person and if you continue the way you are, you're going to wind up just like me. Alone."

"You're just jealous because Esmé likes me more than you," she said, "but no one likes you, Jane. Why would they? You're only a cakesniffer. Even your cakesniffing friends think so. Isn't that why they left you behind?"

"You don't know anything about my friends," I said angrily, "They're a lot better than you are. The Baudelaires don't think I'm a cakesniffer. Besides, if any one is a cakesniffer, it's you. You think that Count Olaf and Esmé care about you. But they don't. They don't care about anyone but themselves."

"That's not true," Carmelita retorted. "You heard them say all those nice things about how adorable they think I am. And Esmé said she would buy me all sorts of clothes but I bet you're not getting anything."

"You're right, Carmelita," Esmé's voice called as she entered the hall with the other villains. "Jamie isn't getting a single piece of clothing. In fact, she's not coming with us."

"She's certainly not staying with me," Olaf said, "I'm far too busy to have time for babysitting."

"I can stay in the room by myself," I said, hoping to have a moment alone to look at the letter.

"That's not even in the question," Olaf said, glowering at me, "I told you I wasn't going to let you out of my sight or Esmé's."

"What about us?" the man with a beard but no hair said in his raspy voice. I made the mistake of looking at his hard, grey eyes again that had haunted me all night long. "We can watch the orphan."

He reached out to touch my shoulder and gave me a wicked smile that made me shudder. I was reminded for a minute of the moments before the bald man had attacked me. I shuddered at the thought. I looked from the man with a beard but no hair to the woman with hair but no beard in horror.

"That won't be necessary," Olaf said quickly, "The orphan can go with Esmé."

"Are you sure?" he said, "I wouldn't mind having the orphan stay with us. In fact, I insist. You can have a break from the orphan and I'll find a use for her here."

"Actually," Esmé said, "Jamie can come with Carmelita and I. It won't be a problem."

"But—" Carmelita started, but was silenced by a stern look from Count Olaf.

Esmé grabbed my wrist. "Come on, Carmelita," Esmé said, pulling me out of the man with a beard but no hair's reach. "Jamie can carry our bags. Later, handsome." She said to Olaf, pausing to blow him a kiss and then pulling me inside the elevator. Carmelita followed, looking disappointed that I was coming. I wasn't too happy about going shopping with Esmé either, however, I'd rather not spend anytime alone with the sinister duo. Particularly the man with a beard but no hair.

I followed behind Esmé and Carmelita as they walked through the city. I struggled to carry the load of shopping bags as we went to store after store. I mostly had to watch while Esmé and Carmelita picked out clothes and wait for hours while they tried them on in the dressing rooms. We had gone through practically all of the stores on Fifth Avenue and now we were walking in the direction of Times Square again. My legs were so tired from all of the walking and carrying all of these bags didn't make it any easier.

"Walk faster," Esmé demanded of me. "We can't have you slowing us down."

"If I walk any faster I think my legs are going to fall off," I muttered. "And these bags are making it difficult."

"We're done shopping for the day," Esmé said, "We're going to lunch now so we can rest."

I had to admit I was a little relieved. If I could just sit down and maybe have something to eat and a drink, I would be absolutely fine. It was especially exciting when we walked onto the streets of Times Square. I haven't been here since the night before and even in the daytime the place was fascinating. I particularly liked to admire the Broadway posters. We were passing a theater with a sign displaying the musical, _Wicked,_ and after a few more blocks we reached the theater for _Evita_. When you passed by the theaters music from the shows played from invisible speakers. 'Don't Cry For Me, Argentina' was playing and I found myself quietly singing along. I knew nearly every musical there was to know and whenever I could, I found the music books in my boarding school's library to learn them on the piano. I knew tons of plays too after reading them in the library. I read plays from Chekhov's _Uncle Vanya_ to Lillian Hellman's _The Children's Hour._

As we passed the theater with _Evita _playing, Esmé stopped suddenly. It was as if she didn't realize where we were at first.

"What's wrong?" I asked, curiously. "Why are we stopping?"

Esmé looked at me and I was taken aback by how sad she looked suddenly. Her expression changed and she narrowed her eyes at me.

"Nothing," she said. "Let's go."

We carried on and Esmé relieved me from carrying some of the bags. I trailed behind, wondering to myself why Esmé had acted so strangely all because of a song or whatever it was she saw.

After a few more blocks, we reached a restaurant where they served sushi that Esmé deemed as in. Carmelita wanted to sit in a booth and took up the entire seat so I had to sit next to Esmé. She had me sit on the inside so I couldn't escape. I wasn't sure why. There wasn't anywhere I would go. Not unless I was with the Baudelaires.

I kept peeking at Esmé out of the corner of my eye, still uncertain about what made her so upset a few moments ago. The waitress came over and took our orders.

"Can I have something?" I asked, hoping I might get to eat something.

"Just order whatever you want," she said quickly, averting her eyes.

"Hurry up, cakesniffer," Carmelita said, poking me with her fork again.

So I ordered some sushi that excluded any kind of strange, raw fish. Carmelita had to use the restroom and left the table, leaving Esmé and I alone. It was silent and I was beginning to feel anxious.

"Thank you," I muttered.

"For what?" Esmé said, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Just for um…lunch," I said.

"I don't see anything special about that," Esmé said with a scowl, "we're supposed to keep you alive and right now, you're all skin and bones. There's no need to thank me or make a big deal out of it."

"Okay," I said quietly, looking down at the table. It was silent again and then the waitress came with our food.

"I've never had sushi before," I said, when the waitress left. I reached to pick one up. Esmé batted my hand away.

"Not with your hands," she scolded, "you're supposed to use chopsticks."

"Oh," I said, picking up the thin wooden sticks beside my plate. I've never learned how to use them. I'd only seen them used in movies or on television shows. I held one in each hand and tried to pick up the sushi.

"You're using them wrong," Esmé said. She startled me, causing the sushi to fall. Luckily, it fell onto my plate again. "Like this."

Esmé demonstrated and I watched closely. When she had expertly brought to piece of sushi to her mouth with the chopsticks, I tried to copy her movements. But I wasn't sure how to grip it. The sushi kept slipping.

Finally, I managed to pick one up. As I brought it to my mouth, the sushi slipped and fell into the bowl of soy sauce, which splattered everywhere. I chuckled, but stopped when I saw Esmé looking at me disapprovingly. I gave her a sheepish look and picked the sushi out of the sauce, placing it back onto my plate.

"I've got a better idea," I said after a moment and put one stick in either side of my mouth. "I'm a walrus."

Esmé scowled. "This is not some childish game," she growled, "take them out of your mouth."

"Fine," I muttered and did as she said. I tried once more to eat the sushi properly, but it slipped again. Finally, I resorted to stabbing the sushi with my chopstick. I brought it to my mouth and chewed it carefully. Esmé watched me with a grimace.

The sushi tasted…funny. It wasn't bad, but I knew it would be a while before I got used to it. I liked the rice part, but the avocado had a strange mixed taste. It felt soft like eating cheesecake.

"Eat quickly, Jamie," Esmé said, "Olaf wants us back soon."

"What was going on before?" I asked as I ate another piece of sushi, "Why did you stop?"

Esmé frowned at me. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," Esmé said, "Nothing happened back there. I was only listening to the song."

"I like that song too," I said, trying to make conversation. "I love musicals in general, as you already know."

"I know," Esmé said. It was silent again as I chewed.

"I just want you to know," I said, "that even though you didn't stick up for my mother in front of those horrible people…well I understand now. I guess sometimes it's better to ignore it. You know, sticks and stones." My words came out fast and jumbled because I was growing very nervous. I wanted Esmé to like me even though I knew she was a bad person. I thought sometimes that maybe…she could change.

"Why do you care so much about me?" Esmé asked suddenly as she narrowed her eyes at me, "Shouldn't you despise me after I'm helping Olaf plot to get your fortune?"

I shrugged. "You're the only real family that I've got," I said, "I've grown up watching as everyone around me had two parents and a family. It's the one thing I've always wanted. And well, I know what you're doing is bad. But I've seen how the Baudelaires treat each other. I guess what I'm saying is that I don't want to take having a family member for granted. Isn't it right for me to care about you even a little, despite everything that you are?"

Esmé stared at me curiously. Then, she shook her head, her face in her hands. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she looked like she was trying to block out something. Maybe a memory. "You are so much like your mother," she said as she looked up at me.

"Were you close with her?" I asked.

"Very close," Esmé replied averting her eyes. She was blinking a lot, her green eyes wet.

"You're lucky," I said, "Sometimes I wish I had a brother or sister. You know, someone who's connected to me in some way. The Baudelaires may be in terrible circumstances but at least they have each other. I'm completely alone. Were you older or younger?"

"I was the eldest, of course," Esmé said quickly. I could tell she was getting a little uncomfortable by my questions. However, I really wanted to know these things. I wanted to try to understand what kind of people my parents were and maybe why they weren't still here.

"I know you've already answered some of my questions already," I said remembering Caligari Carnival and our small conversation about my mother, "but can you tell me more about my mother?"

"This isn't a good time," Esmé said stiffly.

I picked up another sushi with my hands despite Esmé's scowl and chewed it. "Please, I want to know," I said, "no one's ever told me much about my mother or my father. And you're the one person I've met who probably knows more than I'll ever know about them. Well, at least my mother. Olaf knows about them too, but it's not likely that he'll tell me anything. So please, Esmé, I'm tired of living my life without knowing where I came from. I don't care if my mother was the nastiest woman who ever lived or whatever she was."

"Fine," Esmé said, slowly. "I'll tell you one thing only."

"Okay," I sighed.

"Your mother used to perform on Broadway," Esmé said.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. "Really?" I said, gaping. "What show was she in?"

"Quite a few," Esmé said, "She played Sarah Brown in _Guys and Dolls_."

My mouth dropped open even more. "She played _Sarah Brown_?" I knew who that character was particularly because Sarah Brown was one of the female leads next to Adelaide. She was also one of my favorite characters. It brought a smile to my face knowing that my mother had performed as Sarah Brown in a_ real_ Broadway show. "I wish I could have seen it. Was she always on Broadway?"

Esmé shook her head. "Mostly in her early years before…" she trailed off and then frowned. "I shouldn't be talking to you about this. Olaf wouldn't like it if he knew I was talking to you about any of this."

"Why?" I asked. "What does he care about my mother? Or my parents for that matter?"

"No one cares about your cakesniffing mother," Carmelita's obnoxious voice called as she slid back into her seat and glared at me. "Right, Esmé?"

Esmé looked at me one last time and then at Carmelita, her wicked grin returning.

"Now, Carmelita," she said, "What you meant to say was that no one cares about Jamie. She's what you call a cakesniffer."

Carmelita nodded, sneering at me. "Jane is nothing but a servant," she said, "just like always."

They shared a horrible laugh and the rest of the meal was filled with their typical insults. I just couldn't understand it. Why did Esmé seem to care so much about my mother? Yet she seemed to hate me. Was there something wrong with me? I sighed. Maybe it wasn't worth trying to get Esmé to like me. She clearly hated me and I didn't think that would change any time soon.

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><p><em><strong>Klaus Baudelaire<strong>_

We had been floating on the toboggan while we were rushed along the Stricken Stream to what I suspected would be a larger body of water. We weren't sure what to do about our circumstances and we realized glumly that we would have to remain passive if we hoped to make it to the last safe place without Count Olaf on our tails. Thinking about Count Olaf made me think about Jane. She was still in his clutches after she insisted that we leave her behind. There hadn't been enough room on the toboggan. Quigley and Melissa falling off were proof of that. I hoped she was okay. I could still feel the spot on my cheek where she had kissed me. I wasn't sure if that meant anything but it still sent my cheeks burning red whenever I thought about it. Whenever I let myself ponder the possibility of shared feelings. I couldn't wait to see Jane again and that made me anxious to get to Hotel Denouement. Being passive wasn't my favorite choice, though taking action hasn't helped us much in the past. When the toboggan had rounded the corner, we found ourselves facing the remains of the hinterlands after the fire. The fire we helped set. True, we had to do it to fool Olaf into thinking we were freaks but he found out anyways. Lately, I wasn't sure I liked the kind of people we were becoming. Perhaps being passive was a good idea after all.

After a few moments, the stream grew violent and I realized that we were farther into the water cycle than I had predicted. We looked to Violet for help but there wasn't much she could do. The steering device was broken and the rudders were impossible to reach as they were on the bottom of the toboggan. Just as we thought we were doomed to drown, an eye rose out of the stream right where we were floating. I could see that the eye was made of metal, sitting on a tall metal pole that curved to give the eye a better view. We knew what the insignia meant the moment we saw it.

"V.F.D.!" Sunny cried as we were brought closer to the eye.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's a periscope!" Violet said. "Submarines use them to look at things above the water!"

"Does that mean," I cried, "that there's a submarine beneath us?"

Before Violet could reply, the eye rose further out of the water, revealing the flat piece of metal in which the pole was attached to. The toboggan stopped when it reached the periscope. Violet pointed out the hatch and suggested we knock.

"But we have no idea who's inside," I said.

"Taykashans!" Sunny yelled which was her way of saying, "It's our only chance to travel safely through these waters." She leaned down and scraped her teeth against the hatch. We helped her, using our fists to knock on the hatch.

"Friend or foe?" an echoey, deep voice inquired of us.

We weren't sure how to respond.

"The eye might mean that it's Count Olaf's submarine," Violet said, "in which case we're foes."

"The eye might mean that it's V.F.D.'s submarine," I said, "in which case we're friends."

"Obvio!" Sunny said, meaning, "There's only one answer that will get us into the submarine." She called down into the hatch. "Friend!"

There was silence before the voice spoke again. "Password, please," it said.

We glanced at each other, unsure of what the password could be. I suddenly wished I was in a quiet place like a library where I could research the password. Violet was the one who came up with the reply: "The world is quiet here," she said.

There was an abrupt sound of metal creaking and the hatch opened. We peered into the dark hole below us and I wondered if whomever was down there was a friend or foe. It could be Count Olaf like Violet suggested and that would mean we were about to put our lives in jeopardy again. It could be a volunteer and that would mean we might be safe for a while.

"Enter, Baudelaires," the voice said and we climbed inside.

"Right down here!" the voice said as we climbed down the ladder. "Aye! Mind the ladder! Close the hatch behind you! Don't rush! No—take your time! Don't fall! Mind your step! Aye! Don't trip! Don't make noise! Don't scare me! Don't look down! No—look where you're going! Don't bring any flammable liquids with you! Watch your feet! Aye! No—watch your back! No—watch your mouth! No—watch yourselves! Aye!"

"Aye?" Sunny whispered.

"'Aye,'" I explained in a hushed voice, "is another word for 'yes.'"

"Aye!" the voice repeated. "Keep your eyes open! Look out below! Look out above! Look out for spies! Look out for one another! Look out! Aye! Be very careful! Be very aware! Be very much! Take a break! No—keep going! Stay awake! Calm down! Cheer up! Keep climbing! Keep your shirt on! Aye!"

Even though we were in terrible circumstances, I couldn't help but chuckle at the voice as it shouted so many instructions. Some of which made little sense. The voice sounded cheerful though they were all over the place. "Hold on to the railing!" the voice continued. We spotted a light at the end of the passageway. "Aye! No—hold on to yourselves! No—hold on to your hats! No—hold on to your hands! No—hold on! Wait a minute! Wait a second! Stop waiting! Stop war! Stop injustice! Stop bothering me! Aye!"

"One of you is a baby!" the man cried as we reached the bottom, a tiny, poorly lit room in which the ceiling was quite low. An enormous man stood before us, dressed in a suit made of slippery-looking material with equally slippery-looking boots on his feet. On the front of the suit was a portrait of a man with a beard whom I recognized as Herman Melville, one of my favorite writers. However, the man before us looked nothing like the man in the portrait. He did not have a beard, rather a long, curled mustache. "Aye! No—both of you are babies! No—there's three of you! No—none of you are babies! Well, one of you sort of is a baby! Welcome! Aye! Hello! Good afternoon! Howdy! Shake my hand! Aye!"

We hastily shook his hand, which was covered with a glove made of similar material as the suit.

"My name is Violet B—" Violet began.

"Baudelaire!" the man interrupted. "I know! I'm not stupid! Aye! And you're Klaus and Sunny! You're the Baudelaires! The three Baudelaire children! Aye! The ones The Daily Punctilio blames for every crime they can think of but you're really innocent but nevertheless in a big heap of trouble! Of course! Nice to meet you! In person! So to speak! Let's go! Follow me! Aye!"

He whirled around and walked from the room. We followed behind, a little bewildered, down a corridor with pipes running in every which way on the floor, walls, and the ceiling. We had to duck a few times or step over the pipes as we made our way through the submarine.

"Let's see! I'll put you to work right away! Aye! No—first I'll give you a tour! No—I'll give you lunch! No—I'll introduce you to my crew! No—I'll let you rest! No—I'd better get you into uniforms! Aye! It's important that everyone aboard wear a waterproof uniform in case the submarine collapses and we find ourselves underwater! Of course, in that case we'll need diving helmets! Except Sunny because she can't wear one! I guess she'll drown! No—she can curl up inside a diving helmet! Aye! The helmets have a tiny door on the neck just for such a purpose! Aye! I've seen it done! I've seen so many things in my time!"

"Excuse me," Violet said, "but could you tell us who you are?"

The man paused to spin around and face us, his hands held up over his head. "_What?_" he roared, startling us a bit. "You don't know who I am? I've never been so insulted in my life! No – I have. Many times, in fact. Aye! I remember when Count Olaf turned to me and said, in that horrible voice of his – No, never mind. I'll tell you. I'm Captain Widdershins. That's spelled W-I-D-D-E-R-S-H-I-N-S. Backward it's S-N-I-H-S-R – well, never mind. Nobody spells it backward! Except people who have no respect for the alphabet! And they're not here! Are they?"

"No," I said honestly, though even if I wasn't, I wouldn't dare cross Captain Widdershins. "We have a great deal of respect for the alphabet."

"I should say so!" Captain Widdershins cried. "Klaus Baudelaire disrespect the alphabet? Why, it's unthinkable! Aye! It's illegal! It's impossible! It's not true! How dare you say so! No – you didn't say so! I apologize! One thousand pardons! Aye!"

"Is this your submarine, Captain Widdershins? My older sister asked.

"_What?_" he shouted. "You don't know whose submarine it is? A renowned inventor like yourself and you haven't the faintest sense of basic submarine history? Of course this is my submarine! It's been my submarine for years! Aye! Have you never heard of Captain Widdershins and the Queequeg? Have you never heard of the Submarine Q and Its Crew of Two? That's a little nickname I made up myself! With a little help! Aye! I would think Josephine would have told you about the Queequeg! After all, I patrolled Lake Lachrymose for years! Poor Josephine! There's not a day I don't think of her! Aye! Except some days when it slips my mind!"

"Nottooti?" Sunny asked.

"I was told it would take me some time to understand everything you said," Captain Widdershins said, looking down at Sunny. "I'm not sure I'll find the time to learn another foreign language! Aye! Perhaps I could enroll in some night classes!"

"What my sister means," Violet said hurriedly, "is that she's curious how you know so much about us."

"How does anyone know anything about anything?" the captain replied. "I read it, of course! Aye! I've read every Volunteer Factual Dispatch I've received! Although lately I haven't received any! Aye! That's why I'm glad you happened along! Aye! I thought I might faint when I peered through the periscope and saw your damp little faces staring back at me! Aye! I was sure it was you, but I didn't hesitate to ask you the password! Aye! I never hesitate! Aye! That's my personal philosophy!"

Captain Widdershins paused, gesturing to a brass rectangular-shaped plaque that was stuck on the wall. A large V.F.D. eye was carved into the top above the words, THE CAPTAIN'S PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY carved in enormous letters. I had to lean very close in order to read what had been engraved beneath it.

"'He who hesitates is lost'!" Captain Widdershins cried, as he pointed at the words.

"'Or she,'" Violet added, gesturing to a pair of words that someone had added in scratchy handwriting.

"My stepdaughter added that," Captain Widdershins said. "And she's right! 'Or she'! One day I was walking down this very hallway and I realized that anyone can be lost if they hesitate! A giant octopus could be chasing you, and if you decided to pause for a moment and tie your shoes, what would happen? All would be lost, that's what would happen! Aye! That's why it's my personal philosophy! I never hesitate! Never! Aye! Well, sometimes I do! But I try not to! Because He or she who hesitates is lost! Let's go!"

Before we had time for his words to really sink in, Captain Widdershins was already marching down the rest of the corridor with us tagging along. I thought about his personal philosophy. It didn't seem that reasonable in some situations. I was glad I had hesitated at Heimlich Hosptial or I might never have found a good disguise to save Violet from being killed with that rusty knife. I wasn't sure if I wanted that to be my personal philosophy. Hesitation could be helpful sometimes.

"Maybe if I hadn't hesitated," the captain continued, "the Queequeg would have been repaired by now! Aye! The Submarine Q and Its Crew of Two is not in the best of shape, I'm afraid! Aye! We've been attacked by villains and leeches, by sharks and realtors, by pirates and girlfriends, by torpedoes and angry salmon! Aye!" He stopped at a thick metal door, turned to us, and sighed. "Everything from the radar mechanisms to my alarm clock is malfunctioning! Aye! That's why I'm glad you're here, Violet Baudelaire! We're desperate for someone with mechanical smarts!"

"I'll see what I can do," Violet said.

"Well, take a look!" Captain Widdershins cried, and flung the door open.

The room we walked into was spacious and very large. There were more pipes everywhere and sticking out at all angles. There was a incomprehensible array of panels with knobs, gears, and tiny screens, as well as tiny signs saying things like, DANGER!, WARNING!, and HE OR SHE WHO HESITATES IS LOST! There were a few green lights, and at the far end was a huge wooden table stacked with books, maps, and dirty dishes, which stood beneath an enormous porthole.

"This is the belly of the beast!" Captain Widdershins said. "Aye! It's the center of all operations aboard the Queequeg ! This is where we control the submarine, eat our meals, research our missions, and play board games when we're tired of working!" He strode over to one panel and ducked his head beneath it. "Fiona!" he called. "Come out of there!"

There was a noise as something wooshed out from under the panel and midway across the floor. I had to squint behind my glasses in the dim, green light to notice a girl about my age lying on her back on a small, wheeled platform. She was dressed in similar attire as the captain and she clutched a flashlight and a pair of pliers. She smiled, making her look pretty and handed the pliers to her stepfather, who helped her up as she placed a pair of triangular shaped glasses on the bridge of her nose.

"Baudelaires," Captain Widdershins said, "this is Fiona, my stepdaughter. Fiona, this is Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire."

"Charmed," she said, shaking each of our hands, starting with Violet, then me, and lastly to Sunny, who gave Fiona a big toothy grin. She seemed pleasant and I thought her glasses were interesting. "I'm sorry I wasn't upstairs to meet you. I've been trying to repair this telegram device, but electrical repair work is not my specialty."

"Aye!" the captain said. "For quite some time we've stopped receiving telegrams, but Fiona can't seem to make heads or tails of the device! Violet, get to work!"

"You'll have to forgive the way my stepfather speaks," Fiona said, putting an arm around him. "It can take some getting used to."

"We don't have time to get used to anything!" Captain Widdershins cried. "This is no time to be passive! He who hesitates is lost!"

"Or she," Fiona corrected quietly. "Come on, Violet, I'll get you a uniform. If you're wondering whose portrait is one the front, it's Herman Melville."

"He's one of my favorite authors," I said, brightening as I spoke about Herman Melville. I had read every last page of Moby Dick at least a dozen times. I could just imagine that cute stunned look on Jane's face that she always had whenever I told her something surprising if she ever knew. For a moment, I wished Jane were here so she could meet Captain Widdershins and Fiona as well. Mostly I just missed Jane's company. "I really enjoy the way he dramatizes the plight of overlooked people, such as poor sailors or exploited youngsters, through his strange, often experimental philosophical prose."

"I should have known you liked him," Fiona replied. "When Josephine's house fell into the lake, my stepfather and I managed to save some of her library before it became too soaked. I read some of your decoding notes, Klaus. You're a very perceptive researcher."

"It's very kind of you to say so," I said with a smile.

"Aye!" Captain Widdershins cried. "A perceptive researcher is just what we need!" He clomped over to the table and lifted a pile of papers. "A certain taxi driver managed to smuggle these charts to me," he said, "but I can't make head or tail of them! They're confusing! They're confounding! They're conversational! No – that's not what I mean!"

"I think you mean convoluted," I said as I glanced at the charts. "'Conversational' means 'having to do with conversations,' but 'convoluted' means 'complicated.' What kind of charts are they?"

"Tidal charts!" Captain Widdershins cried. "We have to figure out the exact course of the predominant tides at the point where the Stricken Stream meets the sea! Klaus, I want you to find a uniform and then get to work immediately! Aye!"

"Aye!" I said, attempting to get into the spirit of the Queequeg.

"Aye!" the captain answered.

"I?" Sunny asked.

"Aye!" Captain Widdershins said. "I haven't forgotten about you, Sunny! I'd never forget Sunny! Never in a million years! Not that I will live that long! Particularly because I don't exercise very much! But I don't like exercising, so it's worth it! Why, I remember when they wouldn't let me go mountain climbing because I hadn't trained properly, and –"

"Perhaps you should tell Sunny what you have in mind for her to do," Fiona said kindly.

"Of course!" he bellowed. "Naturally! Our other crewman has been in charge of cooking, but all he does is make these terrible damp casseroles! I'm tired of them! I'm hoping your cooking skills might improve our meal situation!"

"Sous," Sunny said humbly, meaning, "I haven't been cooking for very long," and we hurriedly translated.

"Well, we're in a hurry!" the captain answered as he stomped over to a far door marked KITCHEN. "We can't wait for Sunny to become an expert chef before getting to work! He or she who hesitates is lost!" He opened the door and called inside. "Cookie! Get out here and meet the Baudelaires!"

There were some soft, odd footsteps and a man came limping through the door in a similar uniform as well as a huge smile on his face.

"Baudelaires!" he said. "I always believed I would see you again someday!"

We looked at the man and then at each other in amazement.

"Phil!" Violet cried. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"He's the second of our crew of two!" the captain cried. "Aye! The original second in the crew of two was Fiona's mother, but she died in a manatee accident quite a few years ago."

"I'm not so sure it was an accident," Fiona said.

"Then we had Jacques!" Captain Widdershins went on. "Aye, and then what's-his-name, Jacques's brother, and then a dreadful woman who turned out to be a spy, and finally we have Phil! Although I like to call him Cookie! I don't know why!"

"I was tired of working in the lumber industry," Phil explained. "I was sure I could find a better job, and look at me now – cook on a dilapidated submarine. Life keeps on getting better and better."

"You always were an optimist," I said.

"We don't need an optimist!" Captain Widdershins said. "We need a cook! Get to work, Baudelaires! All of you! Aye! We have no time to waste! He who hesitates is lost!"

"Or she," Fiona pointed out to him. "And do we really have to start right this minute? I'm sure the Baudelaires are exhausted from their journey. We could spend a nice quiet evening playing board games –"

"Board games?" the captain said in bewilderment. "Amusements? Entertainments? We don't have time for such things! Aye! Today's Saturday, which means we only have five days left! Thursday is the V.F.D. gathering, and I don't want anyone at the Hotel Denouement to say that the Queequeg hasn't performed its mission!"

"Mission?" Sunny asked.

"Aye!" Captain Widdershins said. "We mustn't hesitate! We must act! We must hurry! We must move! We must search! We must investigate! We must hunt! We must pursue! We must stop occasionally for a brief snack! We must find that sugar bowl before Count Olaf does! Aye!"

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>

**I'm actually reading Moby Dick right now for summer work and the next book is Native Son lol!**

**I'll update ASAP!**

**Oh, I forgot to mention that Fiona is Klaus' age in my fanfic.**


	27. The Carmelita

**New Chapter! R&R please!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: The <em>Carmelita<em>**

"Wake up Blondie!" Count Olaf said, as I was shaken awake. It nearly gave me a heart attack and I sat up straight, getting head rush that made me awfully dizzy. It was still dark outside and when I glanced at the clock, it told me that it was three o'clock in the morning. "Get out of bed!" Count Olaf demanded and began dragging me out of the bed.

"What's going on?" I muttered, still half-asleep.

"You'll find out when we get there," he said, "Now grab your things and get ready to leave fast. I'm not going to wait long. I have some business to take care of and we'll need to be quick if we want to make it back in time for the meeting on Thursday."

He stopped abruptly, realizing he had said too much. "Don't get too excited," he said, "There's no way you're going to attend that meeting. It's for adults only."

"Whatever," I muttered, for the moment I was too tired to care. I already knew about the meeting and everything. I noticed Carmelita wasn't in her bed or in the room at all. I hurriedly got dressed in the bathroom and packed my belongings in my small suitcase while Olaf waited impatiently by the door to my room. I was disappointed when I realized I wouldn't have a chance to read the letter once again. I carefully packed the owl figurine in my bag. I might need it again later.

I followed Count Olaf out the door with my stuff and found Carmelita in the hallway with Esmé and the sinister duo again. I shuddered. Not now.

Mostly they just talked to Olaf and Esmé about their latest plans and about the new recruits. I wasn't allowed to listen again. Carmelita and I were ordered to stand near a table with a potted plant on top.

After a few moments, we were on our way. To where exactly, I wasn't quite sure but Olaf seemed particularly excited. I think I heard something about the sea and stealing something.

The taxi we took brought us to a port and I was curious as to why we were here. Were we going to go into the sea or something? By the time we got there the sun was rising, casting a glow on the waves as they crashed into the walls of the pier. The waters were icy black and it made me think of the Baudelaires. I hoped they had survived the Stricken Stream and were somewhere safe at sea.

"Now will you explain what we're doing here?" I asked when we had stopped at a spot that was empty of any sailboat or motorboat.

"We're taking a submarine," Olaf finally explained, "the very best one."

He gestured to one that sat a little out of the water. There was a gaping hole and I realized it was a giant mouth. In fact, the entire submarine was designed to look like an octopus with tentacles sprouting all around it. "It's called the_ Olaf_. After me, of course."

"That's a cakesniffing name," Carmelita said, "I want the submarine to be named the_ Carmelita_ because I'm the cutest, prettiest, darlingest, girl in the whole wide world."

"Of course it can be called the_ Carmelita_," Esmé said, starting up her fussing over how adorable Carmelita was again. It amused me to see that Olaf was already looking bothered by it.

"Let's go," Olaf said and started across a little connecting bridge.

"Um," I said, "you mean across that very narrow bridge over all that water?"

Olaf scowled. "How else do you suppose we're going to get in? Now, let's go." He grabbed my wrist and started to pull me along but I braced myself by grabbing the railing.

Olaf turned to glower at me. "I won't hesitate to carry you across if I have to."

"Look," I said, "as super cool as this whole submarine thing is, I think I'd prefer to stay out in the fresh, open air where I can see the sky."

"I don't care what you would prefer," he growled and tried to yank me from the railing.

"Why are we even going on a submarine?" I said, "We already reached Hotel Denouement and the meeting hasn't happened yet. We should stay on land. Dry land where there are cars and planes that can take us from point A to point B in much less time."

"We're going to take care of an old enemy of mine," Olaf grumbled. "And we're going underwater. Now enough chit chat." He tugged on my arm again. "I'm a very busy man and I don't have time for bratty orphans who don't cooperate."

"I know why Jane is so scared," Carmelita said, still sticking to calling me Jane even though she knew it wasn't my name anymore.

"I-I'm not scared," I said. I was a little. Not of water…I just couldn't swim so I wasn't too excited about being somewhere in which drowning was a threat.

Carmelita smirked.

"Don't," I said, hoping she wouldn't say anything.

Carmelita gave me one of her evil grins. "Jane's afraid because she doesn't know how to swim," Carmelita uttered a laugh. I scrunched up my forehead as my face grew red in humiliation.

Esmé and Olaf looked at me as if Carmelita said I was an alien from another planet.

Olaf burst out laughing. "He he you can't swim heepa ho!" he cried and I stared at him nervously, not sure why his laugh was so weird all of the sudden. "Ho ho he hee drowning!"

"It's not that funny," I muttered.

"Sure it is," Carmelita said, giggling. "I remember one time Jane tried to swim in the lake. She nearly drowned."

"I didn't try to swim in the lake," I said angrily, "at least not voluntarily. You pushed me in there because Mrs. Marshall who is really that evil woman we just encountered told you to and because you knew I might have drowned!"

"Well, I thought you knew how," Carmelita said innocently, a clear lie, "Usually eight year olds can swim. But that's why you're such a cakesniffer."

"It's not my fault," I said quietly, "No one ever taught me how to swim and swimming lessons cost extra. I would've had to spend all day including every weekend cleaning the cafeteria and classrooms if I wanted to learn how."

Carmelita laughed. Olaf and Esmé joined in with their new, strange laughs.

"Well," I sighed, "now that that's out in the open, perhaps you should consider not putting me inside that submarine where we'll be surrounded by all that water and I might drown."

"I don't care how scared you are," Olaf growled. "In fact, that just might be to my advantage. You'll have no chance of escaping my clutches when we're in the same boat."

I opened my mouth to protest again when I suddenly felt my feet leave the ground and I was being slung over Olaf's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He grabbed my suitcase in his other hand.

"Put me down!" I cried as I pounded my fists on his back and struggled to break free. I was dangling upside down and was staring straight at the icy, black waters of the sea.

"Ha ha ha hee he frightening!" he laughed. "Ho ho I should do this more often! Tee hee tort stop struggling or I'll drop you ha hee hee splattered, dead."

I gulped and stopped struggling. Esmé and Carmelita followed behind as Olaf carried me with ease across the connecting bridge and into the mouth of the submarine. Carmelita skipped across with a wide grin on her face, smirking at my bewildered expression.

They walked into the hole that was positioned in a way that they could walk inside without falling in. Olaf still wouldn't put me down. I stared nervously at the walls, decorated with eerie look eyes that glowed and we passed a window that showed a large room in which a bunch of children were sitting at rowing devices, waiting for us to enter. In fact, I also spotted the hook-handed man inside. I wasn't sure where the carnival freaks were or if they were even on the submarine.

"Can I go down now?" I said, "I can walk just fine on my own."

"Actually," Olaf said, "you seem to be causing much less trouble at the moment."

I sighed and Carmelita snickered at me.

Olaf reached a door with an eye shaped button beside it. He pressed it and the door opened onto the room with the rowing children. Olaf finally released me and I gaped at the sight.

The children sat on benches in rows as they waited to be commanded to row the submarine to our destination. They looked weary from the miseries they must have faced. The sight nearly brought me to tears. I knew what it felt like to perform endless labor whether it was scrubbing floors at my last school or the tiresome chores I had to perform while living with Count Olaf. I looked at their faces and found that I recognized a lot of them. In fact, I especially found the group in the front rows familiar. I could see the curly brown hair and the green eyes that belonged to Megan Fuller. Except now, her hair was matted and her eyes darker. She had been one of my roommates at the New York Boarding School. Beside her was a girl with fair skin and long red hair, whom I realized was Claire Walters and next to her was her older sister Julia. Nicole was there as well. Even Connor Samuels was sitting there, his sandy blonde hair unkempt and not too far from two people I thought I would never see again: Christina Warner and Kate Lawrence. Their hair and faces were back to normal, except that their hair was no longer as glamorous looking as it had been before. Now it was messy and full of split ends. Their clothes were worn and dirty. It was strange seeing these people who I knew so well, being forced to do labor while I watched helplessly. Maybe Christina and Kate had been mean to me, but that didn't mean I wanted something this terrible to happen to them.

I recognized children from the Ontario Boarding School for Girls too, including Carmelita's posse. They looked at Carmelita hopefully as if they thought she might liberate them from their suffering, however, Carmelita skipped along as if they were strangers. There was one boy who stuck out to me as familiar from my time at that boarding school. Of course, my boarding school in Canada was only for girls but sometimes the neighboring school for boys and another school that was mixed would be allowed to visit with us. Charlie M. Kornbluth was the boy's name though most people knew him as C.M. Kornbluth. He had visited our school along with the rest of the boys and we were fast friends. I found out that he was an orphan as well and we bonded on our shared misery. A few months before when Charlie was visiting, we snuck away from the playground to the bridge that led to the pond. Charlie told me that he thought I was pretty and he liked me. It took me by surprise because no one had ever said those words to me and I worried that it must be some kind of mistake. Charlie was about to say something else when we were interrupted by peals of laughter. I looked up only to find Carmelita and her friends coming towards us. They began to tease us and spread a rumor that I had cooties for kissing Charlie even though I hadn't. The worst part was that Carmelita kidnapped Charlie and locked me in one of those pretend play houses. I tried to save him but Carmelita and her friends blocked all the windows of the house and the door so I couldn't get out. They didn't release Charlie or I until it was time for the boys to go home. That moment on the bridge was the last time I saw Charlie until now. It made me sad to think that the next time I saw him, he was someone else's prisoner and again, I was unable to help him.

The children looked up as we approached. Carmelita sneered at them as she skipped after Esmé. Some of them glanced in my direction, including my old classmates from the New York Boarding School.

"Jane!" I heard Megan call in relief. "What are you doing here, Jane?"

"I'm—" I began.

"She's an orphan prisoner," Olaf interrupted, "Ha ha he heepa ho just like the rest of you eventually will be! Ha ha ho but not to worry, you still have the wonderful option of joining us as my new recruits to help with my plans tort tort sniggle snaggle! You're going to be in charge of rowing! Ha ha he he!"

"But they can't," I said, "not them. They're only kids!"

"And they're also my new recruits," Olaf growled.

Charlie had looked up too and noticed me dangling. "It _is_ Jane," he said with a weary smile.

"Hi, Charlie," I said. Of course, I liked Klaus now. I realized I liked Klaus more than I liked Charlie but it was still flattering to think he had liked me. Connor was smiling at me too. So were all of my friends from the New York Boarding School. Except for Kate and Christina, of course. They wore sour expressions on their faces as they looked at me. Clearly, they were still mad for how I had changed their hair color and made their faces swell like balloons.

"Enough chit-chat!" Esmé said as she scowled at me. "Get to work! Or I'll hit you with that tagliatelle grande! It's very sticky and unpleasant to be hit with." The hook-handed man reluctantly gave Esmé his tagliatelle grande so she could threaten the children with it. They began rowing and I watched miserably.

"You go wait in the brig, hooky," Olaf said, "in case we have any prisoners. Particularly this orphan if she doesn't behave. Tee hee trapped!"

"Yes, boss," the hook-handed man replied and went through a door that I guessed led to the brig.

"Let's go put on some uniforms," Olaf said. He grabbed my arm. "This is making me so excited, that I could just laugh. Heepa he ho child labor tee hee tort tort!"

Olaf dragged me through another door and down a corridor until we reached a door marked _Supplies._ Olaf opened the door revealing matching uniforms of slippery-looking material and diving helmets. Olaf pulled some out, still keeping a bony hand on me. There were other supplies in there too. An assortment of objects was neatly stowed away in shelves, revealing that this submarine might not really belong to Olaf.

One of the slippery uniforms was thrust into my hands.

"Put this on," Olaf demanded. "You're apart of my crew now and I can't have you drowning if anything should happen to my submarine."

"I'm not technically your crew member," I reminded him. "I know where my loyalties lie."

He gave me a queasy smile. "We'll see about that, Blondie," he said. "Put it on."

I sighed and looked for the nearest place I could change into the uniform. I noted that there was in fact one bathroom on this entire submarine. I also noticed that there was a small portrait on all the uniforms of a man I didn't recognize.

When I came out, the villains were in their uniforms. Esmé was wearing a strange octopus dress. It was made of slippery cloth and had two large plastic eyes, suction cups on her boots, and six extra sleeves.

I wandered over to the supply closet where Olaf was already picking through. That was when I saw it. The acoustic guitar rested on one of the higher shelves. My eyes widened. I also noticed a sword lying next to it. I couldn't decide which to grab first. I mostly wanted to hide the sword so that Olaf wouldn't find it. He was scary enough without it. So I reached for the sword, my fingers brushing against the hilt.

"What are you doing?" Olaf demanded. I tried to slide the sword under the guitar to conceal it, but Olaf caught sight of it right away. "A sword! Exactly what I need."

He shoved me aside and grabbed the sword, greedily. I stifled a groan.

"Now I can order people around with this sword," he cried. "Particularly you." He pointed the sword at me. "Get away from the closet, orphan," he demanded. "I'm the captain of this ship and what I say goes. In fact, you have to call me Captain now since you're just an orphan prisoner."

"I just want the guitar," I said, reaching for it. "If you let me have it, I promise not to cause any trouble. I'll be so busy playing that I'll barely be paying attention."

"Fine," Olaf grumbled. "But don't be too noisy. You never know what could be lurking in these waters. And I told you to call me Captain!"

"Alright, Captain," I muttered and grabbed the guitar. I was somewhat happy to be near something familiar. I couldn't say whether I was going to keep that promise but Olaf promised me that he would leave the Baudelaires alone. That wasn't true.

"Now," Count Olaf said, "I'm going to the control room to get the submarine started. Esmé, why don't you go boss around my new recruits so they'll row faster? Bring Carmelita and Blondie with you."

"Whatever you say, darling," Esmé said, "Or should I say, Captain?"

"I want to be the captain of this submarine," Carmelita chimed in.

Esmé looked down at Carmelita and patted her head. "If that's what you really want," she said, "Carmelita can be captain. Right, Olaf?"

He grumbled something inaudible. "Of course," he said, in an almost strained voice. "I'll be going now. Get the new recruits to row faster."

"Sure thing, darling," Esmé said, waving. "See you later!"

Olaf left, heading in the direction that I assumed led to the control room.

"Who's on the uniforms?" I asked Esmé when he was gone.

"I don't care who that is," Carmelita said, "I don't want to wear one of those cakesniffing uniforms. I want to wear a fashionable outfit."

"It's true," Esmé said, "those uniforms are far from in. But don't worry you darling little girl, I can design a fashionable outfit for you from the items we purchased and some of my boyfriend's disguises. You can be anything you want."

"I want to be a ballerina!" Carmelita cried. "No—I want to be a veterinarian. No—I want to be a fairy princess! No—I want to be a tap-dancer!"

"You can be all of those things," Esmé said. She rummaged through a bag in which Olaf's disguises were kept and the items she had bought Carmelita during our shopping trip. Soon enough, Carmelita was dressed in an outfit of multiple shades of pink that were so bright that it made me squint to look at them. She wore a big, frilly tutu and a gigantic pink crown on her head. The crown was decorated with light pink ribbons and dark pink flowers. Two pink wings were attached to her back with tape. She had two varying shoes on her feet that I realized were tap shows. A stethoscope was around her neck with pink puffballs all over it. She carried a long pink wand with a bright pink star at the end of it.

"Perfect!" Esmé cried. "Let's go boss the rowers around!"

Esmé shoved me in the direction of the rowing room and Carmelita followed, her shoes making sharp noises as she walked.

Esmé began barking orders at the rowers so they would start rowing. Some of them, my friends from the New York Boarding School and Charlie smiled at me.

"Hey," I called in greeting.

"Quiet," Esmé said, "you're not supposed to be making friends with the other prisoners."

"They already are friends," I said, "Well, some of them. And they certainly shouldn't be here. You should let them go and do the rowing yourself."

"Hard labor is out," Esmé said. "And you're not in charge. You're a prisoner too."

I sighed and turned only to face Carmelita who was twirling her wand around. She smirked at me.

"Now I can do magic," Carmelita bragged mostly to me, showing off her wand. "I have the best wand in the world!"

"Really?" I challenged. "Can you do this?"

I glanced at the guitar and using my strange abilities, made it strum without actually touching it.

"Esmé!" Carmelita shouted. "Jane is being a freak again!"

Esmé turned to glare at me. "Stop that at once," she snarled. "Or I'll hit you with my tagliatelle grande."

I frowned at her. Ever since lunch yesterday, Esmé has been nothing but cruel to me. I couldn't explain it. Of course, she also went back to obsessing over Carmelita Spats who did anything she could to turn Esmé against me. Just like she did in school. It wasn't fair. Carmelita already had a family. Why did she have to go after mine too?

I stopped making the guitar strum on its own and I went to go sit against one of the pillars.

Carmelita came up with an idea to have a tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian dance recital. In fact, she decided to perform the same song and routine that she had done at one of our school talent shows. It had been unpleasant then and equally unpleasant now.

"You don't even know how to tap dance," I said to Carmelita.

"Yes I do," she argued.

"Yeah right," I said, "you can't even do a shuffle properly." It was true. Carmelita had joined a tap dancing class at school, however, she never paid enough attention to what the instructor was telling her to learn much. She always complained that the teacher was supposed to do what she said.

Carmelita scowled and did her recital. As I expected, she was a terrible singer. But always insisted that she was the best singer in the world.

_"C is for 'cute,'"_ Carmelita sang,

_"A is for 'adorable'!_

_ R is for 'ravishing'!_

_ M is for 'gorgeous'!_

_ E is for 'excellent'!_

_ L is for 'lovable'!_

_ I is for 'I'm the best'!_

_ T is for 'talented'!_

_ and A is for 'a tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian'!_

_ Now let's begin my whole wonderful song all over again!"_

The children rowing were cringing from Carmelita's atrocious tap-dancing and singing. Someone needed to stop this torture. Someone like me, perhaps?

"Carmelita," I interrupted her as she began her as she began on R. "You're doing it all wrong. In fact, the word gorgeous doesn't even start with the letter M. I've been trying to tell you that for years."

"Quit interrupting my recital," Carmelita said. I felt a mild, wet slap against my cheek and looked up as Esmé hit me with the noodle. It was sticky like maple syrup.

"You will be quiet and stop interrupting Carmelita's recital," she ordered. "Or I'll hit you with my tagliatelle grande!"

"That doesn't hurt too much," I said, "It's just sticky. Like maple syrup."

"Jane is a cakesniffer!" Carmelita announced to the recruits. "She deserves to be hit with that noodle!"

"We'll see about that," I muttered. "At least, I can sing much better than you can."

"You can't sing," Carmelita said, laughing. "You always had to be a chorus member for our school plays. I always got the best part! Remember when I got to be Annie?"

"The only reason you got that part was because you had the hair," I said, "They didn't spend much on costumes and people would have complained if Annie was played by anyone without red hair."

"That's not true," she said, "I was picked because I'm the prettiest, smartest, darlingest most talented girl in the whole world."

"Prove it," I challenged.

"I will," Carmelita said. "Let's have a sing off. Those cakesniffers and Esmé can be the judges."

"Great," I said, "and if I win…you can't do any more tap-dancing recitals for the rest of the trip!"

There were some noises of approval from the recruits.

"Well, if I win," Carmelita said, "then you have to do anything I say. I'm going first! Out of the way cakesniffer!"

"Fine," I said, crossing my arms.

Carmelita sang her song and tapped danced again, sounding absolutely terrible. She was shouting the words more than she was singing. When she was done, Esmé applauded and then gave the prisoners a look until they clapped too, a little reluctantly.

"My turn," I said, "by the way, I can tap better than you too. And I wasn't even allowed to take dance lessons at school. I can do anything you can do better," I sing-songed.

Carmelita scowled. "I'm a terrific dancer! Right Esmé?"

"Of course," Esmé agreed, "You're the best dancer in the whole wide world!"

Seeing their exchange, further reminded me of what I didn't have. I didn't want to listen to this anymore so I grabbed my guitar, moving to stand in front of the audience of rowers. I couldn't help them escape, but at least I could provide them with good entertainment:

"_You, _

_With your words like knives_

_And swords and weapons that you use against me_

_You have knocked me off my feet again_

_Got me feeling like I'm nothing_

_You,_

_With your voice like nails on a chalkboard_

_Calling me out when I'm wounded_

_You picking on the weaker man_

_You can take me down with just one single blow_

_But you don't know, what you don't know..._

_Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city_

_And all you're ever gonna be is mean_

_Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me_

_And all you're ever gonna be is mean_

_Why you gotta be so mean?_

_You, _

_With your switching sides_

_And your wildfire lies and your humiliation_

_You have pointed out my flaws again_

_As if I don't already see them_

_I walk with my head down_

_Trying to block you out 'cause I'll never impress you_

_I just wanna feel okay again_

_I bet you got pushed around_

_Somebody made you cold_

_But the cycle ends right now_

_'Cause you can't lead me down that road_

_And you don't know, what you don't know..._

_Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city_

_And all you're ever gonna be is mean_

_Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me_

_And all you're ever gonna be is mean_

_Why you gotta be so mean?_

_And I can see you years from now in a bar_

_Talking over a football game_

_With that same big loud opinion_

_But nobody's listening_

_Washed up and ranting about the same old bitter things_

_Drunk and grumbling on about how I can't sing_

_But all you are is mean_

_All you are is mean_

_And a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life_

_And mean, and mean, and mean, and mean_

_But someday I'll be living in a big ol' city_

_And all you're ever gonna be is mean, yeah_

_Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me_

_And all you're ever gonna be is mean_

_Why you gotta be so?.._

_Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city (Why you gotta be so?..)_

_And all you're ever gonna be is mean (Why you gotta be so?..)_

_Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me (Why you gotta be so?..)_

_And all you're ever gonna be is mean_

_Why you gotta be so mean?"_

I finished and the children were clapping excitedly for me. They were much more enthusiastic than they had been for Carmelita. That made her glare angrily at them.

"Who did you think was better?" I asked them. "Raise your hand if you vote for me."

A bunch of hands flew up. Nearly everyone was voting for me. Even Carmelita's posse were on my side this time around. At last, they realized how awful Carmelita really was. Finally, they weren't treating me like an orphan who had no money to pay for school. The only people who weren't raising their hands were Christina and Kate. They only glared at me as they continued to row.

I turned triumphantly to face Carmelita.

Carmelita scowled at me. "What did you think, Esmé?" Carmelita asked.

Esmé looked at me for a moment and then at Carmelita. "I thought yours was better," she said, "You're the best tap-dancer and singer in the whole world!"

"That means I win," Carmelita announced. "Because Esmé's vote counts more than theirs. So I'm the best!"

"That's not fair," I said, "Esmé would vote for you if you had fallen flat on your face! And everyone knows that majority rules."

Carmelita opened her mouth to argue but I spoke before she could. "Anyways," I said, "if you really want to continue with your recitals go ahead. I just want to have the opportunity to perform too."

Carmelita glared at me for a second and Esmé was preparing her tagliatelle grande in case it was needed again. After a moment though, Carmelita's glare faded. "Fine," she said, "You can perform too. But I'm still the best! You'll always just be a cakesniffing orphan."

* * *

><p>So Carmelita kept up with her recitals and when she was done, I stepped forward again. The recruits looked relieved that I had taken over. Even Kate and Christina didn't complain when it was my turn.<p>

I thought of a song to sing which made me think about Klaus and I wanted to sing something for him. "This song is for someone special to me," I said to the recruits. "Klaus Baudelaire."

Megan's eyes widened. "Oh, I knew it," she said, "I knew you liked him!"

Claire and Nicole looked pleased too. Connor looked a little disappointed though. I never liked him much anyways. But I liked Klaus so much that I wanted to sing about it.

I blushed. "Anyways," I said, "he's not here right now. But I wish he were. Well, I wish I were with him. I also wish that all of you weren't rowing this submarine. I hope my singing might help though."

Some of them smiled. I took a deep breath and launched into my song for Klaus:

"_Take time to realize,_

_That your warmth is. _

_Crashing down on in._

_Take time to realize,_

_That I am on your side_

_Didn't I, Didn't I tell you._

_But I can't spell it out for you,_

_No it's never gonna be that simple_

_No I can't spell it out for you_

_If you just realize what I just realized,_

_Then we'd be perfect for each other_

_And we'll never find another_

_Just realize what I just realized_

_We'd never have to wonder if_

_We missed out on each other now._

_Take time to realize_

_Oh-oh I'm on your side_

_Didn't I, didn't I tell you._

_Take time to realize_

_This all can pass you by_

_Didn't I tell you._

_But I can't spell it out for you,_

_No its never gonna be that simple_

_No I can't spell it out for you._

_If you just realize what I just realized_

_Then we'd be perfect for each other_

_And we'll never find another_

_Just realize what I just realized_

_We'd never have to wonder if_

_We missed out on each other but…_

_It's not the same_

_No it's never the same_

_If you don't feel it to._

_If you meet me half way_

_If you would meet me half way._

_It could be the same for you._

_If you just realize what I just realized_

_Then we'd be perfect for each other_

_And we'll never find another_

_Just realize what I just realized_

_We'd never have to wonder_

_Just realize what I just realized_

_If you just realize what I just realized_

_Oh_

_Missed out on each other now_

_Missed out on each other now_

_Realize_

_Realize_

_Realize."_

They clapped like the last time and I blushed some more.

Carmelita looked mad again and stomped over to me. "Singing about your boyfriend?" she teased. "Who is it this time? Charlie or Klaus?"

"Neither," I said, "I don't have a boyfriend."

Carmelita laughed. "Jane's in love with a cakesniffing bookworm!" she sing-songed to the prisoners. Though they didn't seem to find it amusing at all. "Jane and cakesniffing bookworm sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"I'm not in love with him," I said, blushing. "It's only a little crush. And Klaus is not a cakesniffer!"

"Anyone who is friends with you is a cakesniffer," Carmelita said, "and he wears glasses. People who wear glasses are cakesniffers."

"Well, I happen to like his glasses," I said.

"You know what I think?" Carmelita said, "I think that your bookwormed, cakesniffing boyfriend is ugly."

I know it wasn't the right way to handle this situation. But what Carmelita said made me so angry that I couldn't help myself. It wasn't just about what she said now. It was about how she had made my life a living hell every chance she got. She turned my friends against me, she turned my only family member away from me, and now she was insulting my real friends. She insulted Klaus. After all the things she's done to me, I felt myself filling with anger. I wound my fist back and flung it forward. It impacted her nose and hurt me more than I had anticipated. Carmelita fell back from the punch with wide eyes. The prisoners gasped at first and then some cheered and applauded.

"No one insults Klaus Baudelaire while I'm around," I spat. "Or his siblings for that matter."

There was a coughing noise and I turned around to see Esmé and Olaf glowering at me.

* * *

><p><strong>Review! Hoped you liked it! <strong>

**I'll update ASAP!**


	28. Shiver Me Timbers!

_**Sorry it took longer to update! I've been without internet for the past few days while at my lake house...anyways i'm back and hopefully update again in the next few days! **_

_**As always ENJOY! And R&R please!**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 4: Shiver Me Timbers!<strong>_

After Captain Widdershins told us where the Queequeg was going and what it was searching for, we stared at one another in disbelief.

"Shiver me timbers!" Sunny cried.

"Your timbers!" Captain Widdershins bellowed. "Are the Baudelaires practicing piracy? Aye! My heavens! If your parents knew that you were stealing the treasures of others –"

"We're not pirates, Captain Widdershins," Violet recovered quickly "Sunny is just using an expression she learned from an old movie. She just means that we're surprised.'

"Surprised?" Captain Widdershins began to pace in front of us, his waterproof suit crinkling with every step. "Do you think the Queequeg made its difficult way up the Stricken Stream just for my own personal amusement? Aye? Do you think I would risk such terrible danger simply because I had no other plans for the afternoon? Aye? Do you think it was a crazy coincidence that you ran into our periscope? Aye? Do you think this uniform makes me look fat? Aye? Do you think members of V.F.D. would just sit and twiddle their thumbs while Count Olaf's treachery covers the land like crust covers the filling of a pie? Aye?"

"You were looking for us?" I questioned in shock. I had the sudden urge to yell "Shiver me timbers!" the way Sunny had but I was reluctant to upset Captain Widdershins once more.

"For you!" Captain Widdershins exclaimed. "Aye! For the sugar bowl! Aye! For justice! Aye! And liberty! Aye! For an opportunity to make the world quiet! Aye! And safe! Aye! And we may only have until Thursday! Aye! We're in terrible danger! Aye! So get to work!"

"Bamboozle!" Sunny shrieked.

"My sister is confused," Violet explained, "and so are we, Captain Widdershins. If we could just stop for a moment, and hear your story from the beginning –"

"Stop for a moment?" Captain Widdershins echoed, bewildered. "I've just explained our desperate circumstances, and you're asking me to hesitate? My dear girl, remember my personal philosophy! Aye! 'He or she who hesitates is lost'! Now let's get moving!"

We stared at each other in irritation because we were far from ready to get moving. Ever since that fateful day on Briny Beach, we've been moving constantly. From various guardians to the village in which we were chased by an angry mob who wanted us burned at the stake, to Heimlich Hospital where we raced against the clock to rescue Violet and then escaped from the burning building only to find ourselves once again on the move inside the trunk of Olaf's car to the hinterlands. We had then been swept up into the Mortmain Mountains to rescue Sunny and Jane and hopefully find one of our parents and then moved back down the mountains with heavy hearts. The hope in our hearts vanishing as quickly as the rushing waters of the Stricken Stream that had carried us to this submarine. It was so frustrating to have to keep moving when all I wanted to do was stop and think for a moment. Time was what I needed. But it was far out of reach especially with Captain Widdershins ordering us around and with Jane still in Olaf's clutches. I wanted to stop moving, just for a little while, and receive some answers to questions I had been contemplating since all this moving began.

"Stepfather," Fiona said smoothly, "why don't you start up the Queegueg's engines, and I'll show the Baudelaires where our spare uniforms are?"

"I'm the captain!" Captain Widdershins proclaimed. "Aye! I'll give the orders around here!" Then he shrugged, and squinted up toward the ceiling where I could see a rope ladder running up the side of the wall, leading to a tiny shelf in which perched a large wheel and a few rusty levers and switches. The switches and levers were so complicated that I couldn't be sure if even Violet would be able to understand how they work without running into trouble. "I order myself to go up the ladder," the captain went on in a slightly awkward manner, "and start the engines of the Queequeg." With one last "Aye!" the captain started up the ladder, toward the ceiling and we were left alone with Fiona and Phil.

"You must be overwhelmed, Baudelaires," Phil said. "I remember my first day aboard theQueequeg – it made Lucky Smells Lumbermill seem calm and quiet!"

"Phil, why don't you get the Baudelaires some soda, while I find them some uniforms?" Fiona said.

"Soda?" Phil said, with a nervous glance at Captain Widdershins, who was already halfway up the ladder. "We're supposed to save the soda for a special occasion."

"It_ is_ a special occasion," Fiona said. "We're welcoming three more volunteers on board. What kind of soda do you prefer, Baudelaires?"

"Anything but parsley," Violet said.

"I'll bring you some lemon-lime," Phil said. "Sailors should always make sure there's plenty of citrus in their system. I'm so glad to see you, children. You know, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. I was so horrified after what happened in Paltryville that I couldn't stay at Lucky Smells and since then my life has been one big adventure!"

"I'm sorry that your leg never healed," I said, feeling a little guilty that I had injured this man so badly when I had no control over my actions. "I didn't realize the accident with the stamping machine was so serious."

"That's not why I'm limping," Phil said. "I was bitten by a shark last week. It was very painful, but I'm quite lucky. Most people never get an opportunity to get so close to such a deadly animal!"

I gazed at Phil curiously as he limped back through the kitchen door, whilst whistling an energetic tune. "Was Phil always optimistic when you knew him?" Fiona inquired.

"Always," Violet said, and I nodded in agreement. "We've never known anyone who could remain so cheerful, no matter what terrible things occurred."

"To tell you the truth, I sometimes find it a bit tiresome," Fiona said as she adjusted her neat triangular glasses, "Shall we find you some uniforms?"

We nodded and Fiona led us out of the Main Hall and we retraced our steps into the narrow corridor. "I know you have a lot of questions," she said, "so I'll try to tell you everything I know. My stepfather believes that he or she who hesitates is lost, but I have a more cautious personal philosophy."

"We'd be very grateful if you might tell us a few things," I said relieved that someone on this submarine just might have the answers to our questions and willing to confide in us. "First, how do you know who we are? Why were you looking for us? How did you know how to find us?"

"That's a lot of firsts," Fiona said with a smile. "I think you Baudelaires are forgetting that your exploits haven't exactly been a secret. Nearly every day there's been a story about you in one of the most popular newspapers."

"The_ Daily Punctilio_?" Violet asked. "I hope you haven't been believing the dreadful lies they've been printing about us."

"Of course not," Fiona said. "But even the most ridiculous of stories can contain a grain of truth. The _Daily Punctilio_ said that you'd murdered a man in the Village of Fowl Devotees, and set fires at Heimlich Hospital and Caligari Carnival. We knew, of course, that you hadn't committed these crimes, but we could tell that you had been there. My stepfather and I figured that you'd found the secret stain on Madame Lulu's map, and were headed for the V.F.D. headquarters."

I gasped. "You know about Madame Lulu," he said, "and the coded stain?"

"My stepfather taught that code to Madame Lulu," Fiona explained, "a long time ago, when they were both young. Well, we heard about the destruction of the headquarters, so we assumed that you'd be heading back down the mountain. So I set a course for the Queequeg to journey up the Stricken Stream."

"You traveled all the way up here," I said in wonder, "just to find us?"

Fiona looked down. "Well, no," she said. "You weren't the only thing at V.F.D. headquarters. One of our Volunteer Factual Dispatches told us that the sugar bowl was there as well"

"Dephinpat?" Sunny asked.

"What are Volunteer Factual Dispatches exactly?" Violet translated.

"They're a way of sharing information," Fiona said. "It's difficult for volunteers to meet up with one another, so when they unlock a mystery they can write it in a telegram. That way, important information gets circulated, and before long our commonplace books will be full of information we can use to defeat our enemies. A commonplace book is a –"

"We know what a commonplace book is," I said, and withdrew my dark blue notebook from my pocket. "I've been keeping one myself."

Fiona smiled, and drummed her gloved fingers on the cover of my book. "I should have known," she said, looking up to meet my gaze with her olive green eyes, dotted with brown flecks. I looked away quickly at my commonplace book where Fiona's fingers were placed against the dark blue cover. Suddenly, I was reminded of Jane and her notebook. I wondered if she still took notes in hers too.

"Jane has one too," I told Fiona as I glanced up again. She blinked, her smile fading, and her fingers fell from the cover of my commonplace book.

"Oh," Fiona said, "I've heard much about this…Jane Rumary as well. Though I'm not sure of her importance. Her parents didn't seem to have been volunteers. My stepfather didn't recognize the name and he knows all kinds of volunteers."

"Actually," I said, "the reason for the confusion is that Jane isn't really Jane Rumary."

Fiona looked at me oddly. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's only a disguise," Violet said, "to conceal her real identity. She's really Jamie Murray."

Fiona's eyes were wide. "_Murray?_" she said in almost a hiss.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

Fiona shook her head. "It's not important," she said quickly. "Just please don't mention that name to my stepfather. He gets very upset at the slightest mention of the name. I'm not sure why exactly. He only says it was a long time ago and he would rather not relive it. This…Jamie…she is the daughter of Abigail and Henry Murray, correct?"

Violet nodded. "Her parents decided to hide her identity for some reason. They abandoned her at a boarding school when she was only a baby," she said, "We're not quite sure why. It's still just another unsolved mystery."

"Where is…_Jamie_ now?" Fiona asked. "Why isn't she with you?"

I looked at the ground. "She's in Count Olaf's clutches. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to escape on the toboggan with us. I suppose she'll be in whatever location Count Olaf is in."

"Were you good friends with her?" Fiona said.

I nodded. "She's my best friend," I said, smiling as I thought about Jane. I didn't add that I was hoping that we could be more than best friends at some point. "I wish she were here. You would like her. Despite whatever her name brings."

"Well," Fiona said, quickly, changing the topic, "if your sisters are interested in starting commonplace books themselves, we should have a few spares. Everything's in our supply room."

"So are we going up to the ruins of the headquarters," Violet asked, "to get the sugar bowl? We didn't see it there."

"We think someone threw it out the window," Fiona answered, "when the fire began. If they threw the sugar bowl from the kitchen, it would have landed in the Stricken Stream and been carried by the water cycle all the way down the mountains. We were seeing if it could be found at the bottom of the stream when we happened upon you three."

"The stream probably carried it much further than this," I said thoughtfully.

"I think so too," Fiona agreed. "I'm hoping that you can discover its location by studying my stepfather's tidal charts. I can't make head or tail of them."

"I'll show you how to read them," I said. "It's not difficult."

"That's what frightens me," Fiona said. "If those charts aren't difficult to read, then Count Olaf might have a chance of finding the sugar bowl before we do. My stepfather says that if the sugar bowl falls into his hands, then all of the efforts of all the volunteers will be for naught."

We nodded, and made our way down the corridor without another word. I knew the expression "for naught" was only a better way of saying "for nothing". I did not like the thought of all the misfortune and adventures we had been through were all for naught, if Olaf kept Jane in his clutches and found the sugar bowl before we did. As we followed Fiona down the corridor, I hoped that all of our time spent on the Queequeg and our efforts to track down the whereabouts of the sugar bowl would not be just a huge waste of time and bring us even more misfortune.

Fiona stopped at a small door and turned to face my siblings and I. "This is our supply room," she said, "Inside you'll find uniforms for the three of you, although even our smallest size might be too big for Sunny."

"Pinstripe," Sunny said. She meant something like, "Don't worry – I'm used to ill-fitting clothing," and Violet and I were quick to translate.

"You'll need diving helmets, too," Fiona said. "This is an old submarine, and it could spring a leak. If the leak is serious, the pressure of the water could cause the walls of the Queequeg to collapse, filling all these rooms and corridors with water. The oxygen systems contained in the diving helmets enable you to breathe underwater – for a short time, anyway."

"Your stepfather said that the helmets would be too big for Sunny, and that she'd have to curl up inside one," Violet said. "Is that safe?"

"Safe but uncomfortable," Fiona said, "like everything else on the Queequeg. This submarine used to be in wonderful shape, but without anyone who knows about mechanics, it's not quite up to its former glory. Many of the rooms have flooded, so I'm sorry to say that we'll be sleeping in very tight quarters. I hope you like bunk beds."

"We've slept on worse," I said, thinking about the bales of hay in the Orphans Shack and the unfinished half of Heimlich Hospital. The thought of the hospital made me think of Jane and the night we spent talking and eating cold, alphabet soup. Every time I thought of Jane, I missed her more and more.

"So I hear," Fiona replied. "I read a description of the Orphans Shack at Prufrock Preparatory School. That sounded terrible."

"So you knew about us, even then?" Violet asked. "Why didn't you find us sooner?"

Fiona sighed. "We knew about you," she said. "Every day I would read terrible stories in the newspaper, but my stepfather said we couldn't do anything about all the treachery those stories contained."

"Why not?" I asked.

"He said your troubles were too enormous," she replied.

"I don't understand," Violet said.

"I don't really understand, either," Fiona admitted. "My stepfather said that the amount of treachery in this world is enormous, and that the best we could do was one small noble thing. That's why we're looking for the sugar bowl. You'd think that accomplishing such a small task would be easy, but we've been looking for ages and still haven't found it."

"But what's so important about the sugar bowl?" I asked.

Fiona sighed again, and blinked several times behind her triangular glasses. She looked so sad that I regretted asking that question. "I don't know," she said. "He won't tell me."

"Whyno?" Sunny asked.

"He said it was better I didn't know," Fiona said. "I guess that's enormous, too – an enormous secret. He said people had been destroyed for knowing such enormous secrets, and that he didn't want me in that sort of danger. He said that about the Murrays too. In fact, if your friend isn't careful, she might find herself in danger as well."

"But you're already in danger," I said. "We're all in danger. We're on board an unstable submarine, trying to find a tiny, important object before a nefarious villain gets his hands on it. And that nefarious villain happens to have Jane in his clutches. You should see how awful he treats her. It scares me to know Jane could be in mortal peril and I'm not there to help her."

Fiona turned the handle of the door, which opened with a long, loud creak that made us shiver. The room was very small and very dim, lit only by one small green light, and for a moment, it looked like the room was full of people staring silently at us in the corridor. But then we saw it was just a row of uniforms, hanging limply from hooks along the wall. "I guess there are worse dangers," Fiona said quietly. "I guess there are dangers we simply can't imagine.

We glanced at our new friend and then at the eerie row of empty uniforms. On a shelf above the waterproof suits was a row of large diving helmets, round spheres of metal with small circular windows in the middle in order for us see with them on. The eerie light cast on the helmets made them seem like eyes watching us angrily the way the tattoo on Count Olaf's ankle had stared at us in the same way many times before. Once again, I felt the expression 'shiver me timbers' was appropriate to describe how I felt about the thought of the submarine malfunctioning or having to hastily put on the diving helmets in case of a leak. I did not like to think about Count Olaf's whereabouts or about him getting his hands on the sugar bowl before we could or about the awful circumstances Jane must be in. But most of all, I couldn't bear to think about to think about the dangers Fiona had mentioned—danger worse than the ones we currently faced, or dangers we simply couldn't imagine.

* * *

><p>We put on the uniforms of the Queequeg and were glad that were great although they did not exactly fit well. I enjoyed the waterproof pocket in which I stored my commonplace book so much that I couldn't care less that the boots were too tight. Violet and Sunny seemed not to be bothered by their ill-fitting uniforms even Sunny who had to roll up the legs of the suit in order to walk. I was particularly fond of the portrait of Herman Melville, as he was one of my favorite authors and made our miserable pasts just feel as though they were being repaired.<p>

"Shall we go back to the Main Hall?" Violet asked. "I'm ready to take a look at the telegram device."

"Let me just loosen the buckles on these boots," I said eagerly, "and I'll be ready to tackle those tidal charts."

"Cuisi" Sunny said, meaning something along the lines of, "I'm looking forward to examining the kitch–"

Before she could finish her sentence, there was a loud noise from above. the submarine trembled for some reason, and water dripped onto our heads from the ceiling.

"What was that?" Violet asked as she grabbed a diving helmet. "Do you think the Queequeg has sprung a leak?"

"I don't know," I said, taking a helmet for myself and then grabbed one for Sunny. "Let's go find out."

In a haste, we made our way back down the corridor and into the Main Hall, the scraping noise could still be heard like fingernails scraping against a chalkboard.

"Captain Widdershins!" Violet called against the loud scraping noise just as we entered the hall. Captain Widdershins was grasping the steering wheel in his hands. "What's going on?"

"This darned steering mechanism is a disgrace!" the captain cried in abhorrence. "Aye! The Queequeg just bumped against a rock formation on the side of the stream. If I hadn't managed to get the sub back in control, the Submarine Q and Its Crew of Two would be sleeping with the fishes! Aye!"

"Perhaps I should examine the steering mechanism first," Violet suggested, "and fix the telegram device later."

"Don't be ridiculous!" the captain said. "If we can't receive any Volunteer Factual Dispatches, we might as well be wandering around with our eyes closed! We must find the sugar bowl before Count Olaf! Aye! Our personal safety isn't nearly as important! Now hurry up! Aye! Get a move on! Aye! Get cracking! Aye! Get a glass of water if you're thirsty! Aye! He or she who hesitates is lost!"

"It's worth a try," she said, and walked over to the small-wheeled platform. "Do you mind if I use this?" she asked Fiona. "It'll help me get a good look at the device's machinery."

"Be my guest," Fiona said. "Klaus, let's get to work on the tidal charts. We can study them at the table, and keep an eye out for glimpses of the sugar bowl through the porthole. I don't think we'll see it, but it's worth taking a look."

"Fiona," Violet said hesitantly, "could you also take a look for our friends, Melissa Sampson and Quigley Quagmire? They were carried away by the stream's other tributary, and we haven't seen them since."

"Quigley Quagmire?" Fiona asked. "The cartographer?"

"He's a friend of ours," I said. "Do you know him?"

"Only by reputation," Fiona said. "Though I haven't heard much about Melissa Sampson except that she's a volunteer. What happened to them?"

"The volunteers lost track of Quigley a long time ago," I said, "along with Hector and the other Quagmire triplets."

"The Quagmires haven't been as lucky as we have," Violet said, tying her hair up in a ribbon to help her focus on repairing the telegram device. "Melissa recently escaped death by a fire at Heimlich Hospital and lost contact with the volunteers as well. They were working together to find help. I'm hoping you'll spot Quigley and Melissa with the periscope."

"It's worth a try," Fiona said, as Phil walked through the kitchen doors, wearing an apron over his uniform.

"Sunny?" he asked. "I heard you were going to help me in the kitchen. We're a bit low on supplies, I'm afraid. Using the Queequeg nets I managed to catch a few cod, and we have half a sack of potatoes, but not much else. Do you have any ideas about what to make for dinner?"

"Chowda?" Sunny asked.

"It's worth a try," Phil said.

So we all got to work, Violet repairing the telegram device and Sunny worked with Phil in the kitchen to make the chowder. I studied the tidal charts with Fiona, using a pencil to outline possible paths in which the sugar bowl may have taken.

"You make it look so easy," Fiona muttered as she watched me trace another pathway on the chart.

"Actually," I said, "it's a lot harder than I imagined it would be and frankly, a little boring."

"Can you show me how to use it?" Fiona said. "Perhaps then I can be of better help."

"Of course," I said and started to explain how to read the charts.

"Oh, I see," Fiona said after a moment, she peered at the charts, her eyes squinting behind her triangle glasses. "There's a path that it could have taken." She pointed to the pathway she had discovered.

I nodded, reaching for the pencil just as Fiona had attempted to pick it up. Our hands collided; bare as we had both removed our gloves. We pulled our hands away and I felt my cheeks burning up as Fiona smiled shyly.

"Oops," she said, "Sorry about that. You go ahead. You're much better at this than I am anyways."

"O-okay," I mumbled nervously, grabbing the pencil and sketching the pathway. We continued working, trying to pretend like nothing happened though I couldn't help but feel Fiona's gaze on me as I resumed the search for the sugar bowl. The afternoon soon turned to evening, the waters darkening and the Main Hall quiet as we all completed our tasks.

When Captain Widdershins climbed down from the ladder, retrieved a small bell from a pocket of his uniform, and rang it, I could not be certain if the efforts to study these tidal charts were worth a try at all.

"Attention!" Fiona's stepfather said. "Aye! I want the entire crew of the Queequeg to report on their progress! Gather 'round the table and tell me what's going on!" Violet wheeled herself out from under the telegram device, and joined Fiona and I at the table, while Sunny and Phil emerged from the kitchen.

"I'll report first!" the captain said. "Aye! Because I'm the captain! Not because I'm showing off! Aye! I try not to show off very much! Aye! Because it's rude! Aye! I've managed to steer us further down the Stricken Stream without humping into anything else! Aye! Which is much harder than it sounds! Aye! We've reached the sea! Aye! Now it should be easier not to run into anything! Aye! Violet, what about you?"

"Well, I thoroughly examined the telegram device," Violet said. "I made a few minor repairs, but I found nothing that would interfere with receiving a telegram."

"You're saying that the device isn't broken, aye?" the captain demanded.

"Aye," Violet said. "I think there must be a problem at the other end."

"Procto?" Sunny asked, meaning, "The other end?"

"A telegram requires two devices," Violet said. "One to send the message and the other to receive it. I think you haven't been receiving Volunteer Factual Dispatches because whoever sends the messages is having a problem with their machine."

"But all sorts of volunteers send us messages," Fiona said.

"Aye!" the captain said. "We've received dispatches from more than twenty-five agents!" "Then many machines must be damaged," Violet replied.

"Sabotage," I said.

"It does sound like the damage has been done on purpose," Violet agreed. "Remember when we sent a telegram to Mr. Poe, from the Last Chance General Store?"

"Silencio," Sunny said, which was her way of saying, "We never heard a reply."

"They're closing in," the captain said forebodingly. "Our enemies are preventing us from communicating."

"I don't see how Count Olaf would have time to destroy all those machines," I said.

"Many telegrams travel through telephone lines," Fiona said. "It wouldn't be difficult."

"Besides, Olaf isn't the only enemy," Violet said, and I knew she was thinking of the sinister villains we encountered on the mountain and Mr. Lance.

"Aye!" the captain said. "That's for certain. There is evil out there you cannot even imagine. Klaus, have you made any progress on the tidal charts?"

I spread out a chart on the table so everyone could see.

"It's more complicated than I thought," I explained, "and much more dull. These charts note every single detail concerning the water cycle."

"Dull?" the captain roared. "Aye? We're in the middle of a desperate mission and all you can think of is your own entertainment? Aye? Do you want us to hesitate? Stop our activities and put on a puppet show just so you won't find this submarine dull?"

"You misunderstood me," Klaus said quickly. "All I meant was that it's easier to research something that's interesting."

"You sound like Fiona," the captain said. "When I want her to research the life of Herman Melville, she works slowly, but she's quick as a whip when the subject is mushrooms."

"Mushrooms?" I asked in astonishment. "Are you a mycologist?"

Fiona smiled, and her eyes grew wide behind her triangular glasses. "I never thought I'd meet someone who knew that word," she said. "Besides me. Yes, I'm a mycologist. I've been interested in fungi all my life. If we have time, I'll show you my mycological library."

"Time?" Captain Widdershins repeated. "We don't have time for fungus books! Aye! We don't have time for you two to do all that flirting, either!"

"We're not flirting!" Fiona said. "We're having a conversation."

"It looked like flirting to me," the captain said. "Aye!"

"Why don't you tell us about your research," Violet said to me, saving me from having a conversation about my personal life. I gave her a grateful smile. It was true that I was impressed by Fiona and loved her interest in fungi almost as much as I enjoyed Jane's presence and her lovely voice. I couldn't explain how I felt about Fiona and that made me feel even more confused about what to do. My feelings for Jane haven't changed a bit, but now I felt something different as I looked at Fiona.

I shook away my thoughts and pointed to a point on the chart. "If my calculations are correct," I said, "the sugar bowl would have been carried down the sane tributary we went down in the toboggan. The prevailing currents of the stream lead all the way down here, where the sea begins."

"So it was carried out to sea," Violet said.

"I think so," I said. "And we can see here that the tides would move it away from Sontag Shore in a northeasterly direction."

"Sink?" Sunny asked, which meant something like, "Wouldn't the sugar bowl just drift to the ocean floor?"

"It's too small," I said. "Oceans are in constant motion, and an object that falls into the sea could end up miles away. It appears that the tides and currents in this part of the ocean would take the sugar bowl past the Gulag Archipelago here, and then head down toward the Mediocre Barrier Reef before turning at this point here, which is marked 'A.A.' Do you know what that is, Captain? It looks like some sort of floating structure."

Captain Widdershins sighed, and raised one finger to toy with the curl of his mustache. "Aye," he said sadly. "Anwhistle Aquatics. It's a marine research center and a rhetorical advice service – or it was. It burned down."

"Anwhistle?" Violet asked. "That was Aunt Josephine's last name."

"Aye," the captain said. "Anwhistle Aquatics was founded by Gregor Anwhistle, the famous ichnologist and Josephine's brother-in-law. But all that's ancient history. Where did the sugar bowl go next?"

I wished we could learn more, however, I knew by now that it was not wise to argue with Captain Widdershins. I pointed to a small oval on the chart to continue my report. "This is the part that confuses me," I said. "You see this oval, right next to Anwhistle Aquatics? It's marked 'G.G.,' but there's no other explanation."

"G.G.?" Captain Widdershins said, and stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "I've never seen an oval like that on a chart like this."

"There's something else confusing about it," I said, peering at the oval. "There are two different arrows inside it, and each one points in a different direction."

"It looks like the tide is going two ways at once," Fiona said.

Violet frowned. "That doesn't make any sense," she said.

"I'm confused, too," Klaus said. "According to my calculations, the sugar bowl was probably carried right to this place on the map. But where it went from there I can't imagine."

"I guess we should set a course for G.G., whatever it might be," Violet said, "and see what we can find when we get there."

"I'm the captain!" the captain cried. "I'll give the orders around here! Aye! And I order that we set a course for that oval, and see what we can find when we get there! But first I'm hungry! And thirsty! Aye! And my arm itches! I can scratch my own arm, but Cookie and Sunny, you are responsible for food and drink! Aye!"

"Sunny helped me make a chowder that should be ready in a few minutes," Phil said. "Her teeth were very handy in dicing the boiled potatoes."

"Flush," Sunny said, which meant "Don't worry – I cleaned my teeth before using them as kitchen implements."

"Chowder? Aye! Chowder sounds delicious!" Captain Widdershins cried. "And what about dessert? Aye? Dessert is the most important meal of the day! Aye! In my opinion! Even though it's not really a meal! Aye!"

"Tonight, the only dessert we have is gum," Phil said. "I still have some left from my days at the lumbermill."

"I think I'll pass on dessert," I said, after having such an awful time at Lucky Smells Lumbermill I no longer had a taste for gum.

"Yomhuledet," Sunny said, meaning, "Don't worry – Phil and I have arranged a surprise dessert for tomorrow night," but of course only her siblings could understand the youngest Baudelaire's unusual way of talking.

Nevertheless, as soon as Sunny spoke, Captain Widdershins stood up from the table and began howling with shock. "Aye!" he cried. "Dear God! Holy Buddha! Charles Darwin! Duke Ellington! Aye! Fiona – turn off the engines! Aye! Cookie – turn off the stove! Aye! Violet – make sure the telegram device is off! Aye! Klaus! Gather your materials together so nothing rolls around! Aye! Calm down! Work quickly! Don't panic! Help! Aye!"

"What's going on?" Phil asked.

"What is it, stepfather?" Fiona asked.

For once, the captain was silent, and merely pointed at a screen on the submarine wall. The screen was made to look like a piece of graph paper, lit up in green light, with a glowing letter Q in the center.

"That looks like a sonar detector," Violet said.

"It is a sonar detector," Fiona said. "We can tell if any other undersea craft are approaching us by detecting the sounds they make. The Q represents the Queequeg and–"

Fiona gasped in surprise, and we gazed at where she was indicating. At the very top of the panel was another shining emblem, which was moving along the screen straight toward the Queequeg. Fiona did not say what it stood for and we could not bear to ask. It was an eye, staring at us and wiggling its long, skinny eyelashes, which stuck out from each side.

"Olaf!" Sunny said in a whisper.

"There's no way of knowing for sure," Fiona said, "but we'd better follow my stepfather's orders. If it's another submarine, then it has a sonar detector too. If the Queequeg is absolutely silent, they'll have no idea we're here."

"Aye!" the captain said. "Hurry! He who hesitates is lost!"

I didn't think of adding "Or she" to the captain's personal philosophy and neither did anyone else. Instead, we hurried to silence the submarine. Fiona climbed up the rope ladder and turned off the whirring engine. Violet wheeled back into the machinery of the telegram device and turned it off. Phil and Sunny ran into the kitchen to turn off the stove, so even the bubbling of their homemade chowder would not give the Queequeg away. And the captain and me gathered up the materials on the table so that nothing would make even the smallest noise. Within moments the submarine was in complete silence and we all stood mutely at the table, staring out the porthole into the gloomy water of the sea.

As the eye on the sonar screen drew closer to the Q, I could see something looming in the darkened waters–a strange shape that became clearer as it got closer and closer to the Queequeg. It was another submarine, much bigger than the Queequeg , and as it drew near, we had to cover their mouths so our gasps could not be heard.

The second submarine was in the shape of a giant octopus, with an enormous metal dome for a head and two wide portholes for eyes. This submarine had many more tentacles than just eight. What had appeared to be eyelashes on the sonar screen were really small metal tubes, protruding from the body of the octopus and circling in the water, making thousands of bubbles that hurried toward the surface.

The octopus drew closer, and all of us volunteers on the Queequeg stood as still as statues, hoping the submarine had not discovered them. The strange craft was so close that I could see a shadowy figure inside one of the octopus's eyes. It was a tall, lean figure, and I was positive the figure had one eyebrow instead of two, filthy fingernails instead of good grooming habits, and a tattoo of an eye on its left ankle.

"Count Olaf," Sunny whispered, before she could stop herself.

The figure in the porthole jerked, as if Sunny's small din had caused the Queequeg to be detected. Spouting more bubbles, the octopus came closer, and any moment it seemed that one of the legs of the octopus would be heard scraping against the outside of the Queequeg . We looked down at their helmets, which they had left on the floor, and I wondered if we should put them on, so we might in case the submarine collapsed.

Fiona took her stepfather's arm, but Captain Widdershins shook his head noiselessly, gesturing to the sonar screen once more. The eye and the Q were almost on top of one another on the screen, but I realized there was a third shape of glowing green light, this one the biggest of all, a huge curved tube with a small circle at the end of it, slithering toward the center of the screen like a snake. However, the shape looked more like a question mark.

We gazed at this fresh, third shape its approach imminent as we fell silent, and felt as if we were about to be consumed by the very questions we were trying to answer. Captain Widdershins pointed at the porthole again, and the children watched the octopus stop, as if it too had detected this strange third shape. Then the legs of the octopus began whirring even more furiously, and the strange submarine began to disappear from view.

We glanced at the sonar screen, and watched the question mark follow the glowing green eye in silence until both shapes disappeared from the sonar detector and the Queequeg was alone. The six passengers waited a moment and then sighed with relief.

"It's gone," Violet said. "Count Olaf didn't find us."

"I knew we'd be safe," Phil said, optimistic as usual. "Olaf is probably in a good mood anyway."

We did not bother to say that their enemy was only in a good mood when one of his treacherous plans was succeeding, or when Jane's or our enormous fortune appeared to be falling into his grubby hands.

"What was that, Stepfather?" Fiona said. "Why did he leave?"

"What was that third shape?" Violet asked. The captain shook his head again. "Something very bad," he said. "Even worse than Olaf, probably. I told you Baudelaires that there is evil you cannot even imagine."

"We don't have to imagine it," Klaus said. "We saw it there on the screen."

"That screen is nothing," the captain said. "It's just a piece of equipment, aye? There was a philosopher who said that all of life is just shadows. He said that people were just sitting in a cave, watching shadows on the cave wall. Aye – shadows of something much bigger and grander than themselves. Well, that sonar detector is like our cave wall, showing us the shape of things much more powerful and terrifying."

"I don't understand," Fiona said.

"I don't want you to understand," the captain said, putting his arm around her. "That's why I haven't told you why the sugar bowl is so very crucial. There are secrets in this world too terrible for young people to know, even as those secrets get closer and closer. Aye! In any case, I'm hungry. Aye! Shall we eat?" The bell was ringing again, waking me from what felt like a bad dream.

"I'll serve the chowder," Phil said. "Come on, Sunny, why don't you help me?"

I went back to gazing at the tidal chart, following the path in which I had outlined and my eyes fell on G.G. again. I was so focused that I hardly paid attention to what the others were doing.

"Klaus?" Violet said, her voice breaking me from my thoughts.

I didn't answer her, but looked at Captain Widdershins. "I may not know why the sugar bowl's important," I said, "but I've just figured out where it is."

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><p><strong>Hope you liked it! Update coming soooon!<strong>

**BTW is anyone else excited for A Very Potter Threequel? I AM! lol :)**


	29. The Perilous Proposal

**ENJOY! Even though it's kind of dreadful lol**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: The Perilous Proposal<strong>

Esmé went to Carmelita's side to help her up and glared at me when she saw that Carmelita had a bloody nose. Carmelita was crying like a little baby. It was about time.

"You might have broken her nose!" Esmé spat at me.

"Yeah, right," I muttered with a chuckle. "It wasn't that good of a punch."

"Send her to the brig, Esmé!" Carmelita growled at me. "I demand that the cakesniffer is locked away for good!"

"Be quiet, all of you," Olaf ordered. I noticed he still carried the sword. "Particularly you." He glared down at me. "The Great Unknown is following us so we mustn't make any noise. Esmé, make sure everything is silent down here. And you, orphan, are coming with me. I'm not about to let you blow our cover."

I frowned, confused on what he was talking about. What was the Great Unknown and why did Olaf seem so afraid of it? I didn't have time to even ask because Olaf grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the rowing room. Esmé was already making orders to be silent.

Count Olaf led me down the hall where we had gotten supplies and then through a door at the end of the corridor, which led to another even longer corridor that was dimly lit. There were more doors along the corridor and pipes ran along the ceiling and walls. We didn't go through any of the doors, in fact, Olaf shoved me toward something attached to the wall that I realized was a ladder. He aimed his sword at me to force me to scramble up the ladder first so I wouldn't escape and demanded I wait at the top while he climbed.

After going down a few more corridors, I was finally halted at a large, round, solid looking part of the wall. Olaf pushed a button beside it, also shaped like an eye, and in a flash, the dome-shaped door was opening. The door disappeared when it reached the top so all I could see was a gaping hole. Olaf pointed his sword at me again and I scurried inside the dim room as the door closed behind us, making the room even darker. Count Olaf paid no mind to me as he hurried over to what looked like a sonar screen, glowing green in the dark room. There were two shapes on the screen, an eye that I assumed was this submarine and another submarine shaped like a question mark that seemed to glide toward us smoothly. The _Carmelita _was in complete silence now, not a sound could be heard. I watched as the other submarine came closer for a moment and then began to head in another direction until it disappeared off of the sonar screen completely.

I heard Count Olaf let out a small sigh of relief. I've never seen Olaf look so scared and I knew that whatever was in the submarine must be pretty unsettling. It was a moment before Olaf decided the coast was clear enough to resume the tasks at hand.

Olaf went and turned on the lights so now the room was bright enough to make me squint. All sorts of buttons, levers, a steering wheel, and other equipment that I knew Violet might even have difficulty working were all displayed on a control panel where two large chairs were pushed against it. I realized this must be some sort of control room. There was also a large window near the sonar detector that viewed the dark waters of the sea, eerie looking, especially when I realized we were inside one of the octopus' large eyes.

"So can I go now?" I asked, hesitantly. I was uncomfortable with the fact that the door had closed behind us upon entering and I was trapped alone in this room with my worst enemy.

"No," Olaf said, "I still need you to be here."

"Why am I in here?" I asked. "Am I in trouble?"

"That depends," Olaf replied. "Why don't you have a seat?"

He gestured to one of the chairs at the control panels. I sat down and looked nervously at the door, wishing I could get out of here.

"Look," I said, quickly, "I don't know what happened back there, I'm not normally that violent."

Olaf pretended like I hadn't spoken, moving over to a compartment in which he pulled out a small chocolate bar and a water bottle. He held the two items out for me, his one eyebrow raised. "Take these," he said, "I know you must be thirsty and hungry. And what child can resist chocolate?"

"No thanks," I said, "I may be hungry and like chocolate but I know better than to take candy from the person who wants to kill me."

"Fine," he grumbled and then reached back inside the compartment to pull out a plain bagel. "This isn't candy. Now eat up."

Olaf thrust the bagel and water bottle into my hands.

"Why are you giving me food?" I said uncertainly.

"You haven't eaten all day," Olaf said, "Even if you are my prisoner, I'm not going to starve you to death. Your fortune is much too important to me and therefore, your well being is too."

I looked at him curiously but started to nibble on the bagel. It made me realize how starved I was and I wound up eating it all in seconds. I gulped down all of the water to wash the bagel down. I put it down, and noticed that Count Olaf was staring at me for some reason. The way he was standing made me think of Mr. Burns from _The Simpsons_. I could imagine Olaf uttering the word, '_Excellent_' and rubbing his hands together, greedily.

"You're that hungry," Olaf said, "Well, here, have some more." He opened a panel and pulled out two more bagels and another water bottle. He also brought the chocolate bar out again. I took them a little greedily. I couldn't help myself when I was so hungry. Though I wasn't so distracted that I wasn't feeling odd about this. Why was Olaf being so generous all of the sudden? Something was up. I stopped chewing on the bagel and narrowed my eyes at him.

"What are you up to?" I said.

Olaf shrugged and turned away to gaze out the large window that revealed the dark, mysterious depths of the sea.

"I only thought it would be appropriate if you were well fed," he said, "When I was carrying you, I realized how poor your condition was. You should be thanking me right now."

"Thank you," I said, nervously. I wouldn't have said it, but he was kind of creeping me out and he was still holding that sword. Otherwise, I had no reason to thank him. He was the reason I was starving in the first place. Even though I had a strange feeling, I couldn't stop myself from munching on the bagels. It made me think of the story of _Hansel and Gretel_ when they visit that delicious looking house of that mysterious old lady who's really a witch. Hansel is forced to eat so much food and then the witch tries to cook Hansel and Gretel in the oven for her to eat. Luckily, Gretel pushes the witch in the oven and they escape but the thought was so unnerving that I stopped eating. Of course, I didn't think Count Olaf was planning on cooking me inside an oven to eat me or anything of the sort, at least, I hoped not, but I couldn't help but worry a little.

"What do you really want?" I asked after a moment of silence.

"I want many things," Olaf replied, turning around to face me. "I want the sugar bowl, I want your fortune, I want the Baudelaires and their fortune, I want countless other fortunes, and I want to destroy V.F.D. In fact, all of my desires have brought other matters to my attention. I've been thinking lately about our circumstances. With you being Jamie Murray and all. And of course, my upcoming schemes during the V.F.D. meeting."

"And?"

"As you know when you turn eighteen, I'll have your fortune," Olaf said, "and once you've given me everything I want, there'll be no other purpose for me…to keep you alive." He paused trailing his bony fingers along the blade of the sword and then, looked at me with shiny eyes. I shuddered.

"So you're going to kill me," I finished, impatiently, "you've already told me that."

"I might," he said, "but there's a chance I'll decide to spare your life."

I frowned. "I highly doubt that," I muttered. Remembering all those times when Count Olaf had threatened to kill me after getting his hands on my fortune. "You said so yourself."

"But there's where you're wrong," Olaf said, "See, if you joined me, I wouldn't _have_ to kill you."

"So…you want me to be one of your henchwomen?" I asked, hesitantly.

"Exactly," Olaf replied, "you caught on faster than I thought. I could use someone like you."

"Well, there's no way I'm joining you," I said, "I could never do that to the Baudelaires and…"

"And what?"

"I don't want to be like that," I said.

"I'm no different from you or the Baudelaires." Olaf said, "In fact, you've committed a fair share of crimes yourselves. Lying, stealing, _arson_…Esmé told me that _you_ nearly pushed Madame Lulu into that pit of lions."

I lowered my eyes. "You killed Jacques Snicket." I said, barely above a whisper. I shuddered. "Not to mention all the other lives you've taken. Maybe the Baudelaires and I did all those things, but I'm not just going to sink to that level. I could never betray them like that."

"But if you joined me," Olaf insisted, "you wouldn't have to die and—"

"Look," I interrupted, "I know what you're trying to do. This isn't the first time you've tried coaxing me into doing something. This is starting to sound too much like that time you persuaded me to go willingly into your clutches to protect the Baudelaires. But you didn't keep your promise. So how am I supposed to trust that you mean that?"

Olaf strode over to me. "I have something for you," he said, reaching into his pocket, he drew out my notebook. It was a little worn and I could tell he had been reading it.

"You're giving it back to me?" I asked.

"Only if you agree to be my henchwoman," he said.

"You know that won't work," I muttered.

Olaf scowled and walked over to me. "This flimsy notebook has every detail of your horrible life since my appearance," he said, "if there's one thing I've learned about little girls, it's that every secret they have can always be found in their diary. Which is exactly what you've done. I read through the entire thing even the dreadfully boring parts. But I did find some of it to be quite interesting and useful…"

"Because of Monty Kensicle?" I asked. "I already told you that I no longer associate with him."

"Not _that_," he said with a frown, "I was able to carefully read your journal. You certainly aren't afraid to write down all of your thoughts. And now, it seems I know every secret of yours…your most secret desires, doubts, fears, and miseries. Now, it seems I know you as well as you know yourself, maybe even more."

I furrowed my eyebrows in worry. That couldn't be good.

"Then you'll know that I would never betray the Baudelaires," I said, firmly.

"I know how you've felt all this time," he said, ignoring me, "You get upset when they brag about all of the memories they had of their childhood while you spent yours cleaning cafeterias and classrooms. Is it not true, that sometimes, you feel as though you don't _belong_ with the Baudelaires?"

"Well I mean…" I said, "I used to. But now we're friends and now I do feel more apart of them."

"You're hardly apart of anyone," Olaf said, "You'll always just an outsider. And what if one of their parents happened to be alive? Do you actually think they would adopt you too? You can pretend all you want, Jamie, but your only lying to yourself. If the Baudelaires are the reason you're refusing this offer then, perhaps you need to rethink where your _true_ loyalties should lie. Those _friends_ of yours aren't the people you think they are."

"How would you know anything about that?" I said, "And they're not my friends, they're more than that…actually I've come to think of them as my family."

Count Olaf threw his head back and uttered one of his strange laughs. "Ho ho ho _family _he he sniggle_,_" he cried, "Ha ha heepa ho is that what you think? Tort tort!"

I nodded firmly.

"He he orphan, I'm afraid you've been terribly misled ha ha ho," Olaf said, laughing some more, "You're not a Baudelaire. The Baudelaires aren't _your_ family. You're not even related. Your _real_ family is on this submarine."

"You mean Esmé?" I said, with a grimace. "She doesn't care about me. But the Baudelaires do and despite whether we're related or not, they're all I have. Besides, you killed other family members of mine. Jacques Snicket was my godfather and you killed him so I don't think you have the right to tell me who my family is."

"Yes, but Esmé is your _aunt_," Olaf said, a little irritated, "How much closer can you get to finding the answers to questions you've been asking your entire life?" "But she barely tells me anything," I said, "and maybe I don't care about answering those questions. I've been dealing with them my entire life and waiting a little bit longer won't hurt. However, the Baudelaires care about me and I care about them just as much. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here."

"I'm glad you brought that up." Olaf said, "Don't you find it a little strange that it's been months since I got you in my clutches and not once did you escape?"

"I escaped," I reminded him, "at Prufrock Prepatory School."

"Barely," Olaf said with a smirk, "but it's been a long time since then, and you're still here. You would think your friends might have come up with a way to save you by now."

"They tried," I said, "They just have a lot going on and you mostly get in the way."

"How exactly?" Olaf asked, his one eyebrow rose.

"W-well, they broke out of that jail cell in the Village of Fowl Devotees," I said, "and they took me with them to rescue the Quagmires."

"And then what happened?"

"You know what happened," I said, "that mob chased us through the streets and when we tried to escape into that self-sustaining hot air mobile home of Hector's, Esmé shot that harpoon to sever the rope. After that there was no hope to climb aboard with them and when we got down, you were trying to convince the mob that the Baudelaires killed Jacques. And then, Esmé got caught shooting that crow and before I knew it, I was on the back of that terrifying motorcycle, not knowing when or if I'd see the Baudelaires again."

"So you didn't escape," Olaf said, "and even though you escaped from the jail cell, it couldn't have been because the Baudelaires were trying to rescue _you_."

"Of course they were," I said, scowling.

"No, orphan, they were trying to preserve their own lives, of course, and the lives of the Quagmires," Olaf said, "If they were trying to rescue you, they would have found you without my help."

"They just didn't know where to look." I said, "When we lived with the Squalor's, you had the Quagmires and later myself trapped at the bottom of an elevator shaft. I never realized that myself until you threw me down there. They tried to rescue us with the welding torches but you came before they could get to the bottom of the shaft. And then I was locked in a jail cell. They couldn't have known where I was since there was no chance for me to try and call for their help."

"Yet they still managed to rescue the Quagmires." Olaf said, "And when we were staying at the hospital, I never saw the orphans try to rescue you once. They were far too busy looking for the Snicket file and saving their sister's life."

"Just stop!" I said, angrily, "Stop making me think the Baudelaires are bad people! They're not! They tried to rescue me and I believe that! They're the people I should trust, not you! I'm not joining you and that's my final word!"

"And what about the last time?" Olaf pressed as if I hadn't spoken, "Violet and Klaus climbed up that mountain to rescue you and the baby brat from my clutches. Yet, they only rescued Sunny. And now? Now, they're probably dead somewhere or with that surviving Quagmire boy and that equally bratty Melissa Sampson. Their time to rescue you is quickly running out."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Count Olaf leaned down so I could smell his nasty breath. "Once the last safe place is destroyed," he said, "the authorities will never be able to stop me again. Not even those volunteers will be able to rescue you. You'll be with me for the rest of your life. It's up to _you_ to decide how long you wish to be alive."

"What about the Baudelaires?" I said, "You aren't giving up on them, are you?"

"Of course not," Olaf said, "but I've been growing a little tired of this city. I've been thinking about bringing you far away on an island where I can keep a better watch until you're old enough to give me your fortune. Being somewhere far away from here will be the perfect place to celebrate my victory. If I don't get the Baudelaires, I can always go back. And nowadays it seems like they come to me."

I didn't speak. An unsettling feeling was filling my stomach at the thought of having to live on some island until Olaf got my fortune. The idea terrified me. I no longer had an appetite for the bagels. Not even the chocolate bar looked appealing. In fact, I didn't realize how tightly I had gripped the chocolate bar until I felt it melting in my hands.

"So you see, Jamie," Olaf said, placing a bony hand on my head, "the Baudelaires don't care about you. All they care about are themselves and those Quagmires. And ever since they found out about who you really are, it's as if they've completely stopped caring. You're all alone in the world, just like you've always been. Why do you think I chose to kidnap you in the beginning? I knew it would be too easy since you had nothing. You still have nothing. But if you join me perhaps, you won't have to be by yourself. What do you say?" His eyes were shining in that way when he wanted to appear like a decent, honest person. It made my stomach churn.

"I—I…" I faltered. Everything he said sounded right. It had taken the Baudelaires a long time to save me but did that really mean they didn't care?

"Yes?" Olaf said, in anticipation.

"I can't," I said in a small but firm voice, "I won't." I got up from the chair, placing the food and drink on the seat, and started for the door.

"Get back here, orphan!" Olaf growled, pointing his sword at me. "I'm not finished."

He grabbed my arm and pulled me back over to the chair, pushing the food and drink items aside and then shoving my shoulders down so I would sit.

"I told you I don't want it," I said, "I trust the Baudelaires and that's all that matters."

"Can't you see?" Olaf continued, "You're completely infallible. You're probably too stupid to know what that word means. It means—"

"I know what infallible means," I interrupted. I knew the word meant that I trusted people too easily. I suppose I had trusted the Baudelaires quite soon after we had met. But that was only because they were the first kids to ever treat me with kindness. Well, besides Charlie.

"Then why would you trust those brats so completely?" he said.

"They're my friends," I said, "of course I trust them."

"Tell me, Jamie," Olaf said, "Is it not true that all your life, people have been nothing but cruel to you?"

"I guess," I said, "No one has ever really been kind to me except for the Baudelaires, the Quagmires, and Charlie."

"Who's Charlie?" Olaf asked, in confusion.

"He's—" I began.

"Never mind," Olaf interrupted. "I really don't care. Anyways, except for those orphans, all your life, people have gone out of their way to make you miserable."

"Actually," I said, "there were other people who were nice to me. Those girls I was friends with at that New York Boarding School were and Melissa Sampson, of course."

Olaf gave me a weird look. "What?" he said, "Those girls pushed you down some stairs and you turned their hair different colors."

"First of all," I said, "I'm not even sure if it was me who did that. Second, I meant my other friends. Third, they're on this submarine and I would never betray them by working for you!"

He narrowed his eyes, looking confused. Then, realization crossed his face.

"_Them?_" he said, "They turned away from you the moment you became friends with those other girls. They're no different from anyone else. If you do one thing that they disapprove of, they'll turn from you. You see, they may seem like friends but they can't be very loyal. After everything all those kids have done to you, shouldn't you be glad to get revenge by making them do such hard labor?"

"Well, maybe some of those kids were mean to me," I said, "and sometimes I thought getting back at them would make me feel better but it doesn't. It feels worse. No one should have to go through such terrible things."

"And yet, not one of those kids ever gave you the time of day when it came to your misery," Olaf said, "They just looked the other way while all sorts of awful things happened to you."

"But—"

"This is besides the point," Olaf said, growing frustrated, "The important thing is that you have no friends. No one cares about you."

"The Baude—"

"No," he growled. "Not even the Baudelaires."

I glanced out the window. I was confused on what he was trying to get at. Of course the Baudelaires cared about me. We were friends and friends cared about each other.

"I don't understand," I said, carefully. I scooted back in case he got angry again.

"Jamie," Olaf said, "if all your life, you've been bullied, what makes the Baudelaires any different? You thought those girls at that school were your friends except they humiliated you."

"The Baudelaires wouldn't humiliate me." I said, "Klaus was the one who tried to warn me about them."

"Maybe not," Olaf said, "but they have abandoned you. Just like your dear parents."

I frowned at him. How could he say that the Baudelaires would abandon me? They would never do that. Right? "They didn't abandon me!" I cried, "Don't say that! Neither of them did!" I wanted to plug my ears and get out of this room. I didn't want to hear anymore of this. The Baudelaires wouldn't abandon me! They just wouldn't!

"Then explain to me why you're still here, in my clutches," Olaf said pointing his sword at me.

"Well…um…" I trailed off.

"Exactly," Olaf said, "The Baudelaires have not once even tried to save you. Only when the Quagmires were in my clutches did they bother to even look. Isn't it strange how Sunny was the only orphan rescued and not you too?"

"But I chose to stay," I said.

"_What?_" he cried in confusion.

"Well, I was worried one more person on the toboggan would make us plummet to our death," I said, "So I told them I would stay behind."

"Alright," Olaf muttered, "but tell me this Blondie, if the Baudelaires had a choice between saving Sunny or you, who do you think they would choose?"

I frowned. I didn't want to answer to that but he had his sword out again. "Sunny, but I understand," I said, "She's their sister. She's _family_."

"That's right," Olaf said, "And you're not. Your family is on this submarine. Here's another question: if the Baudelaires had to choose between saving your life or the Quagmires, who would they save?"

My frown deepened. Olaf was staring at me with piercing eyes and I averted my gaze. "I-I don't know…" I answered quietly, a horrible feeling in my gut. But somehow, I did know. They would save the Quagmires.

Count Olaf leaned down so his face was level with mine. He reached out to grab my chin with his bony hand so I was forced to look at him. "They don't care about you," Olaf said, "but if you joined my troupe, I would."

I gave him an odd look. "No, you wouldn't."

"You might think that," Olaf said, "But you're such a smart and pretty girl. If you joined me, it wouldn't be necessary for me to be cruel to you."

"But why?" I asked, uncertainly.

"As I said before, I don't want to have to kill you, Jamie," he said. His face looked absolutely serious and even the gleaming in his eyes was dulled a bit. It made me want to look away again but he was clutching my chin tight enough that I couldn't move an inch.

"What changed?" I said. "I thought you've been anxiously awaiting that moment."

"I was," Olaf said, letting go of my chin but he stayed where he was. "But that was before I knew who you were."

"Yet you refuse to explain why I'm so important," I muttered. "I still don't get it."

"Well, perhaps then it's about time I told you," Olaf said, "Ever since I discovered that you were in fact the daughter of Abigail and Henry Murray. I knew things would never be the same. I thought that I should keep your parents' lives a secret. Until now. I've had time to think things through and I've realized that perhaps you should know where you came from. At least I'll tell you about your dear mother."

"Really?" I said. "What was she like? Esmé told me she was on Broadway once. Is that true?"

Olaf frowned. "I should have warned Esmé not to tell you about that," he muttered. "But that's not important at the moment."

"Please tell me," I said, "I just want to know about them. I want to feel like I knew them too."

"I'll tell you about your mother only," he said. "I never liked your father much. Fortunately, you've seemed to have inherited most of your mother's qualities." He grasped a chunk of my hair and then let it fall back onto my shoulder. "You see, that's why I'm giving you this wonderful offer."

"What does my mother have to do with it?" I asked.

He grinned deviously. "I met your mother in school," he said, "She became my girlfriend for quite some time. Of course, I eventually became an individual practitioner, leaving V.F.D. for good. But I wasn't entirely alone. Abigail became my first henchwoman." Olaf noticed my eyes widen and he grinned. "That's right, little Jamie. Your mother was no different than I was back then. We were partners in crime. Setting fires and causing all sorts of trouble."

I was silent. I couldn't think up a response. I wanted to tell him that he was wrong and that he was making it all up to hurt me. But I couldn't be sure. I averted my gaze to the window behind him.

"Don't be ashamed," Olaf said, grabbing my face again and turning my head to look at him. "You should be proud! Your mother and I were a great pair! I knew the right way to set a fire and your mother had an aim that almost never missed its target."

I was still speechless, bitterly staring into the dark depths of the sea through the window. I didn't want to think about that. It was bad enough not knowing who my parents were. And now I found out that my own mother had worked for the man who's trying to kill me. Or at least he was.

"Don't you understand what this means?" Count Olaf went on. "It's not just a choice. It's more of an obligation for you to follow in your dear mother's footsteps and make her proud of you. If you let me, I can help you achieve great things."

Once more, I couldn't quite form words to express myself. I didn't want to think about my mother that way. Could she really have been Olaf's _henchwoman_?

"Anyway," Olaf went on, "won't you be glad to have Esmé as family? I know Esmé will be thrilled to have someone to dress up."

"She already has someone," I said bitterly, "Carmelita Spats. She can't stop talking about how adorable she is. It's like I'm invisible to her or something. Besides, I don't like Esmé's taste in fashion."

"Maybe," Olaf said, letting go of my face and stepping back. His face was still just as serious. "Yet, no matter what you say, Esmé is your aunt. Wouldn't you rather be with your family? That is what you've always wanted, right?"

"I want my parents back," I said quietly, "I wish Esmé wasn't my aunt. She helped murder Jacques. Who knows what else she's responsible for?"

"Esmé had good reasons," Olaf said, "Besides, Jacques Snicket wasn't a real relative. You know, you might think that there is a wrong side of the schism of V.F.D. But it's as phony as the Baudelaire's loyalty to you. Volunteers have done things that are just as villainous to get rid of what they believed to be problems. Just look at yourself. Don't you see? The world isn't all black and white. Even the noblest person is capable of villainy. Even the Baudelaires. Weren't they the ones who helped me burn down Caligari Carnival?"

I was reticent again, biting my lip.

"Just think of how wonderful it would be," Count Olaf said, "Now, what do you think, Jamie? Will you join me and make your mother proud?"

"No, I won't join you," I said, steadily, as I pushed his hands off of my face. "I refuse your offer."

"Don't be so quick to decide," Olaf said, "You might change your mind. I'll give you some time to think about it and make your final decision. You have twenty-four hours before the offer is off the table. If not, you'll be back to being a poor, helpless orphan prisoner and I'll be sure to lock you in that brig."

"Don't hold your breath," I muttered as I rose and started for the door. Fortunately, Olaf didn't threaten me with the sword again and instead pressed another button to open the door. It opened and suddenly the hole seemed like a gaping monster, threatening to swallow me whole.

"I suppose you'll be able to find your way back to Esmé all by yourself," Olaf said, as I began to exit. "This submarine is perfectly designed so that little prisoners like you can't escape. Besides you can't swim. I'll see you again for your ultimate decision."

I hurried out of the room, wanting to erase everything he just said to me from my mind. But his words plagued me as if they were branded into my mind. 'They don't care about you…' or 'you're all alone in this world…' were replayed in my mind over and over. I shook my head to clear my mind of those terrible words that reminded me of what I feared most of all. I couldn't let myself think about it. It wasn't true. I had to believe the Baudelaires were true. Because I knew if I couldn't trust the Baudelaires, then I there wasn't a person in this world I could believe in. They were all I had and I couldn't bear the thought of what Olaf had accused them of abandoning me. Besides, I felt like Klaus cared about me. Shouldn't that be enough to know I could trust them?

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	30. The Gorgonian Grotto

**New chapter so enjoy! :) R&R please!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: The Gorgonian Grotto<strong>

When I told the captain that I had discovered the whereabouts of the sugarbowl, all of the crew of the Queequeg chatting avidly.

"Aye?" Captain Widdershins exclaimed. "You've figured out where the tide took it? Aye? But you just said you didn't know! Aye! You said you were confused by the tidal charts, and that oval marked 'G.G.'! Aye! And yet you've figured it out! Aye! You're a genius! Aye! You're a smarty-pants! Aye! You're a bookworm! Aye! You're brilliant! Aye! You're sensational! Aye! If you find me the sugar bowl, I'll allow you to marry Fiona!"

"Stepfather!" Fiona cried, her face reddening.

"Don't worry," Her stepfather said, "we'll find a husband for Violet, too! Aye! Perhaps we'll find your long-lost brother, Fiona! He's much older, of course, and he's been missing for years, but if Klaus can locate the sugar bowl he could probably find him! Aye! He's a charming man, so you'd probably fall in love with him, Violet, and then we could have a double wedding! Aye! Right here in the Main Hall of the Queequeg ! Aye! I would be happy to officiate! Aye! I have a bow tie I've been saving for a special occasion!"

"Captain Widdershins," Violet said, "let's try to stick to the subject of the sugar bowl." I knew Violet was still a little disturbed after nearly having to marry Count Olaf and would prefer not to be married anytime soon.

"Aye!" the captain yelled. "Of course! Naturally! Aye! Tell us everything, Klaus! We'll eat while you talk! Aye! Sunny! Cookie! Serve the chowder!"

"Chowder is served!" Phil declared, as he carried two hot bowls of thick soup hastily from the kitchen.

Sunny towed Phil, carrying a pepper grinder, and went around the table offering pepper to anyone who wanted some.

"Double pepper for me, Sunny!" Captain Widdershins cried, grabbing the first bowl of chowder. "A nice hot bowl of chowder! A double helping of pepper! The location of the sugar bowl! Aye! That'll blow the barnacles off me! Aye! I'm so glad I scooped you Baudelaires out of the stream!"

"I'm glad, too," Fiona said, smiling shyly at me. I returned it with my own smile.

"I couldn't be happier about it," Phil said, serving two more bowls of chowder. "I thought I'd never see you Baudelaires again, and here you are! All three of you have grown up so nicely, even though you've been constantly pursued by an evil villain and falsely accused of numerous crimes! Though one of you seems to be missing. What happened to your little blond friend? I can't recall her name. Janice was it?"

"It's Jane Rumary," I said, glancing at Fiona, "and she's in Count Olaf's clutches unfortunately."

"Aye!" Captain Widdershins said. "How terrible! Aye! Once we get that sugar bowl we can find your friend! Aye! Then perhaps we can find someone for her to marry! Aye! Then it will be a triple wedding!"

"I hope so," I said, "we miss her." Violet and Sunny nodded in agreement.

"Well, look at the bright side," Phil said, "I'm sure it must be fun to be on that submarine."

"Well, you certainly have had a harrowing journey," Fiona said, rolling her eyes at Phil.

"I'm afraid we may have another harrowing journey ahead of us," I said. "When Captain Widdershins was talking about the philosopher who said that all of life is just shadows in a cave, I realized at once what that oval must be."

"A philosopher?" the captain asked. "That's impossible! Aye!"

"Absurdio," Sunny said, meaning, "Philosophers live at the tops of mountains or in ivory towers, not underneath the sea."

"I think Klaus means a cave," Violet said quickly instead of translating. "The oval must mark the entrance to a cave."

"It begins right near Anwhistle Aquatics," I said, indicating the location on the chart. "The currents of the ocean would have brought the sugar bowl right to the entrance, and then the currents of the cave would have carried it far inside."

"But the chart only shows the entrance to the cave," Violet said. "We don't know what it's like inside. I wish Quigley was here. With his knowledge of maps, he might know the path of the cave."

"But Quigley isn't here," I said softly. "Neither is Melissa. I guess we'll be traveling in uncharted waters."

"That'll be fun," Phil said.

My sisters and I glanced at each other. After everything we've been through, we couldn't share Phil's optimism about having to explore uncharted waters filled with all kinds of mysteries.

"It won't be the first time the Queequeg's been in uncharted waters," Captain Widdershins said. "Aye – most of this sea was first explored by V.F.D. submarines."

"We thought V.F.D. stood for Volunteer Fire Department," Violet said. "Why would a fire department spend so much time underwater?"

"V.F.D. isn't just a fire department," the captain said, his voice quiet. "Aye – it started that way. But the volunteers were interested in every such thing! I was one of the first to sign up for Voluntary Fish Domestication. That was one of the missions of Anwhistle Aquatics. Aye! I spent four long years training salmon to swim upstream and search for forest fires. That was when you were very young, Fiona, but your brother worked right alongside me. You should have seen him sneaking extra worms to his favorites! Aye! The program was a modest success! Aye! But then Cafe Salmonella came along, and took our entire fleet away. The Snicket siblings fought as best they could. Aye! Historians call it the Snicket Snickersnee! Aye! But as the poet wrote, 'Too many waiters turn out to be traitors.' "

"The Snicket siblings?" I asked.

"Aye," the captain said. "Three of them, each as noble as the next. Aye! Kit Snicket helped build this submarine! Aye! Jacques Snicket proved that the Royal Gardens Fire was arson! Aye! And the third sibling, with the marmosets –"

"You Baudelaires knew Jacques Snicket, didn't you?" asked Fiona, who seemed to not be afraid of interrupting her stepfather.

"Very briefly," Violet said, "and we recently found a message addressed to him. That's how we found about Thursday's gathering, at the last safe place."

"Nobody would write a message to Jacques," Captain Widdershins said. "Aye! Jacques is dead!"

"Etartsigam!" Sunny said, and I was quick to translate, "The initials were J.S."

"It must be some other J.S.," Fiona said.

"Speaking of mysterious initials," I said, "I wonder what G.G. stands for. If we knew what the cave was called, we might have a better idea of our journey."

"Aye!" Captain Widdershins said. "Let's guess! Great Glen! Aye! Green Glade! Aye! Glamorous Glacier! Aye! Gleeful Gameroom! Aye! Glass Goulash! Aye! Gothic Government! Aye! Grandma's Gingivitis! Aye! Girl Getting-up-from-table! Aye!"

As the captain spoke, Fiona had rose, wiped her mouth with a Herman Melville themed napkin, and went to open a cabinet to reveal a few shelves stalked with books.

"Yesterday I started reading a new addition to my mycological library," she said, standing on tiptoes to reach the shelf. "I just remembered reading something that might come in handy."

The captain fingered his mustache amazement. "You and your mushrooms and molds!" Captain Widdershins said. "I thought I'd never live to see your mycological studies be put to good use."

"Let's see," Fiona said, flipping through a heavy book entitled _Mushroom Minutiae_.

"It was in the table of contents – that's all I've read so far. It was about halfway through."

She carried the book to place it on the table, and trailed a finger down the page of the table of contents.

She brought the book over to the table, and my siblings and I watched as her finger ran down the table of contents. "Chapter Thirty-Six, The Yeast of Beasts. Chapter Thirty-Seven, Morel Behavior in a Free Society. Chapter Thirty-Eight, Fungible Mold, Moldable Fungi. Chapter Thirty-Nine, Visitable Fungal Ditches. Chapter Forty, The Gorgonian Grotto – there!"

"Grotto?" Sunny asked.

" 'Grotto' is another word for 'cave'," I clarified, as Fiona opened the book to Chapter Forty.

" 'The Gorgonian Grotto,' " she read, " 'located in propinquity to Anwhistle Aquatics, has appropriately wraithlike nomenclature, with roots in Grecian mythology, as this conical cavern is fecund with what is perhaps the bugaboo of the entire mycological pantheon.' "

"Aye! I told you that book was too difficult!" Captain Widdershins said. "A young child can't unlock that sort of vocabulary."

"It's a very complicated prose style," I confessed, "but I think I know what it says. The Gorgonian Grotto was named after something in Greek mythology."

"A Gorgon," Violet said. "Like that woman with snakes instead of hair."

"She could turn people into stone," Fiona said.

"She was probably nice, when you got to know her," Phil said.

"Aye! I think I went to school with such a woman!" the captain said.

"I don't think she was a real person," Klaus said. "I think she was legendary. The book says it's appropriate that the grotto is named after a legendary monster, because there's a sort of monster living in a cave – a bugaboo."

"Bugaboo?" Sunny asked.

"A bugaboo can be any kind of monster," Klaus said. "We could call Count Olaf a bugaboo, if we felt so inclined."

"I'd rather not speak of him at all," Violet said.

"This bugaboo is a fungus of some sort," Fiona said, and resumed reading from _Mushroom Minutiae_. " 'The Medusoid Mycelium has a unique conducive strategy of waxing and waning: first a brief dormant cycle, in which the mycelium is nearly invisible, and then a precipitated flowering into speckled stalks and caps of such intense venom that it is fortunate the grotto serves as quarantine.' "

"I didn't understand all of that scientific terminology," I said, although I loved to research, I was never as interested in sciences as much as other subjects.

"I did," Fiona said. "There are three main parts to a mushroom. One is the cap, which is shaped like an umbrella, and the second is the stalk, which holds the umbrella up. Those are the parts you can see."

"There's part of a mushroom you can't see?" Violet asked.

"It's called the mycelium," Fiona replied. "It's like a bunch of thread, branching out underneath the ground. Some mushrooms have mycelia that go on for miles."

"How do you spell 'mycelium'?" I asked, reaching into my waterproof pocket. "I want to write this down in my commonplace book."

Fiona gestured to the word out on the page. "The Medusoid Mycelium waxes and wanes," she said, "which means that the caps and stalks spring up from the mycelium, and then wither away, and then spring up again. It sounds like you wouldn't know the mushrooms are there until they poke up out of the ground."

"That sounds unnerving," Violet said.

"It gets worse," Fiona said. "The mushrooms are exceedingly poisonous. Listen to this: 'As the poet says, "A single spore has such grim power / That you may die within the hour." ' A spore is like a seed – if it has a place to grow, it will become another mycelium. But if someone eats it, or even breathes it in, it can cause death."

"Within the hour?" Klaus said. "That's a fast-acting poison."

"Most fungal poisons have cures," Fiona said. "The poison of a deadly fungus can be the source of some wonderful medicines. I've been working on a few myself. But this book says it's lucky the grotto acts as quarantine."

"Quarwa?" Sunny asked.

"Quarantine is when something dangerous is isolated, so the danger cannot spread," I explained. "Because the Medusoid Mycelium is in uncharted waters, very few people have been poisoned. If someone brought even one spore to dry land, who knows what would happen?"

"We won't find out!" Captain Widdershins said. "We're not going to take any spores! Aye! We're just going to grab the sugar bowl and be on our way! Aye! I'll set a course right now!" The captain got up from the table and began climbing the rope ladder to the Queequeg's controls.

"Are you sure we should continue our mission?" Fiona asked her stepfather as she closed the book. "It sounds very dangerous."

"Dangerous? Aye!" her stepfather cried, "Dangerous and scary! Aye! Scary and difficult! Aye! Difficult and mysterious! Aye! Mysterious and uncomfortable! Aye! Uncomfortable and risky! Aye! Risky and noble! Aye!"

"I suppose the fungus can't hurt us if we're inside the submarine," Phil said, attempting to be optimistic.

"Even if it could!" the captain cried, standing at the top of the rope ladder and gesturing dramatically as he made a speech that was quite moving despite the dangers we knew we could face.

"The amount of treachery in this world is enormous!" he cried. "Aye! Think of the crafts we saw on the sonar screen! Think of Count Olaf's enormous submarine, and the even more enormous one that chased it away! Aye! "There's always something more enormous and more terrifying on our tails! Aye! And so many of the noble submarines are gone! Aye! You think the Herman Melville suits are the only noble uniforms in the world? There used to be volunteers with P G. Wodehouse on their uniforms, and Carl Van Vechten. There was Comyns and Cleary and Archy and Mehitabel. But now volunteers are scarce! So the best we can do is one small noble thing! Aye! Like retrieving the sugar bowl from the Gorgonian Grotto, no matter how grim it sounds! Aye! Remember my personal philosophy! He who hesitates is lost!"

"Or she!" Fiona said.

"Or she," the captain agreed. "Aye?"

"Aye!" Violet cried.

"Aye!" I shouted.

"Aye!" Sunny shrieked.

"Hooray!" Phil yelled.

Captain Widdershins peered down in annoyance at Phil, whom he would have preferred say "Aye!" along with everyone else. "Cookie!" he ordered. "Do the dishes! The rest of you get some shut-eye! Aye!"

"Shut-eye?" Violet asked.

"Aye! It means 'sleep'!" the captain explained.

"We know what it means," Klaus said. "We're just surprised that we're supposed to sleep through the mission."

"It'll take some time to get to the cave!" Captain Widdershins said. "I want you four to be well-rested in case you're needed! Now go to your barracks! Aye!"

I was not particularly looking forward to going to bed when I knew I would only be tossing and turning in the uncomfortable barracks of the Queequeg. Especially after we had just discovered the sugarbowl's whereabouts.

However, we reluctantly followed Fiona back down the corridor, causing a wave of doziness to wash over me as I realized how tired I was after not having had a good night's sleep in quite some time. I felt myself yawning as Fiona led us inside a small, green-lit room stacked with shapeless bunk beds.

I found myself so exhausted from our long day that I barely had time to put my glasses on the bedside table and did not even ponder about any of the books I had recently read. I found myself drifting into a deep sleep. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, we were awakened by a loud, unsettling scraping noise similar to what we had heard not too long before. The whole submarine shook, nearly causing us to fall out of bed.

"What was that?" Violet asked.

"We hit something," Fiona said grimly, grabbing her glasses in one hand, which had been placed next to mine on the table, and her diving helmet in the other. "We'd better see what the situation is."

We nodded in agreement, and raced from the barracks and towards the Main Hall. There was an unnerving splashing sound coming from a few of the tubes, and I had to pick up Sunny to carry her over several large puddles.

"Is the submarine collapsing?" I asked.

"We'll know soon enough," Fiona said.

We reached the Main Hall where Captain Widdershins and Phil surrounded the table, gazing out the porthole. Grim expressions were on their faces, though Phil attempted to smile simultaneously.

"It's good you got some rest," Phil said. "There's a real adventure ahead of you."

"I'm glad you brought your diving helmets," Captain Widdershins said. "Aye!"

"Why?" Violet asked. "Is the Queequeg seriously damaged?"

"Aye!" the captain said. "I mean, no. The submarine is damaged, but she'll hold – for now. We reached the Gorgonian Grotto about an hour ago, and I was able to steer us inside with no problem. But the cave got narrower and narrower as we maneuvered further and further inside."

"The book said the grotto was conical," Klaus said. "That means it's shaped like a cone."

"Aye!" the captain said. "The entrance was the wide end of the cone, but now it's too narrow for the submarine to travel. If we want to retrieve the sugar bowl we'll have to use something smaller."

"Periscope?" Sunny asked.

"No," Captain Widdershins replied. "A child."

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>

**Unfortunately...i'm going away for camp like tomorrow so i won't be able to publish for three weeks. Sorry! But i promise to post again as soon as i get back! **

**Btw i'm reading _Moby Dick _for school and there are soooo many references in this book and the last book to it that i never realized before lol! And the next book on the list is _Native Son_ sooo that will be interesting lol! **


	31. Half the Battle

**R&R please! :)**

**And Enjoy! **

* * *

><p><em><em>**Chapter Seven: Half the Battle**

_**Klaus Baudelaire**_

"You youngsters look very spiffy in those helmets!" Phil said, in his usual optimistic way, with a huge smile stretched across his face. "I know you must be a little nervous, but I'm sure all of you children will rise to the occasion!"

My siblings and I sighed, and I glanced at them through my diving helmet. I wasn't sure if I could rise to the occasion. I was much too frightened of sinking in this awkward, waterproof diving uniform. The helmet prevented me from seeing well even with my glasses on. It was like looking closely at the glass surrounding a fish tank. Violet was unable to tie her hair up and poor Sunny was cramped as she had to curl up inside that helmet. They were also surprisingly heavy and it made me worry about sinking to the bottom of the sea.

"Don't worry," Fiona said, as if she could tell what we were thinking. She gave the us a small smile. "I assure you that these suits are completely safe – safe, but uncomfortable."

"As long as we can breathe," Violet said, "I don't care how uncomfortable they are."

"Of course you'll be able to breathe!" the captain said. "Aye! The oxygen systems in your helmets provide plenty of air for a short journey! Of course, if there's any opportunity to remove your helmets, you should do so! Aye! That way the system can recharge itself, and you'll have more air."

"Where would we find an opportunity to remove our helmets in an underwater cave?" I asked.

"Who knows?" Captain Widdershins said. "Aye! You'll be in uncharted waters. I wish I could go myself! Aye! But the grotto has become too narrow!"

Sunny shrieked one of her words but the helmet made it muffled, nearly making us unable to understand her.

"I think my sister is curious about how we'll be able to see our way," Violet said. "Does the Queequeg have any waterproof flashlights?"

"Flashlights won't help you," the captain replied. "Aye! It's too dark! Aye! But you won't need to see your way. Aye! If Klaus's calculations are correct, the tide will just push you along. Aye! You won't even have to swim! You can just sit there, and you'll drift right to the sugar bowl!"

"That seems like an awfully passive way to travel," Fiona said.

"Aye!" Captain Widdershins agreed. "It does! But there is no other solution! And we should not hesitate!" He stopped and pointed to his plaque. "He or she who hesitates is lost!" he reminded them.

"It's a little hard not to hesitate," Violet said, "before doing something like this." "It's not too late to draw straws!" the captain said. "Aye! You don't all have to go together!"

"The three of us prefer not to be separated," I said. "We've had too much trouble that way."

"I should think you've had too much trouble in any case!" the captain said. "Aye!"

"The Baudelaires are right, Stepfather," Fiona said. "This way makes the most sense. We may need Violet's mechanical expertise, or Klaus's knowledge of the tidal charts. And Sunny's size may come in handy, if the grotto gets even smaller."

"Ulp," Sunny said, meaning, "I don't like the idea of drifting by myself in a diving helmet."

"What about you, Fiona?" the captain asked. "Aye! You could stay here with me!" "My skills might be needed as well," Fiona said quietly. I shuddered as I tried not to think about the Medusoid Mycelium and its poisonous spores.

"Aye!" Captain Widdershins admitted, and smoothed his mustache with one gloved finger. "Well, I'm going to tell V.F.D. all about this! Aye! All four of you volunteers will receive citations for bravery!"

I exchanged glances with my siblings. We were far more concerned with surviving our journey through the Gorgonian Grotto than citations for bravery. I knew Captain Widdershins was only trying to heighten our spirits as he guided us down the corridor and into the room where we had first met the captain of the Queequeg .

"To get into the water," the captain said, "you just climb up that same ladder and give a holler when you're at the hatch. Then I'll activate a valve down here, so the submarine won't flood with water when you open it. Then, as I said, you'll just let the current carry you. You should end up in the same place as the sugar bowl."

"And you still won't tell us why the sugar bowl is important?" Violet asked.

"It's not the sugar bowl," Captain Widdershins said, "it's what's inside it. Aye! I've already said too much! Aye! There are secrets in this world too terrible for young people to know! Just think – if you knew about the sugar bowl and you somehow fell into Count Olaf's clutches, there's no telling what he'd do! Aye!"

"But look on the bright side," Phil pointed out. "Whatever terrible things may be lurking in that cave, you won't find Count Olaf. There's no way that octopus submarine could fit!"

"Aye!" the captain agreed. "But we'll watch for him on the sonar, just in case! We'll watch you too! Aye! We'll be right here watching you the entire time! The oxygen systems in your helmets make enough noise that you'll appear as four tiny dots on our screen! Now, off you go! Good luck!"

"We'll be wishing you the best!" Phil said.

Phil and Captain Widdershins patted each of us on our helmets and, without hesitation, we climbed up the ladder and to the latch. Fiona followed behind us. Violet grabbed the handle to open the hatch.

"We're ready!" she called down to us. However, I was not ready to face yet another journey that could be filled with danger.

"Aye!" replied the voice of the captain. "I'm activating the valve now! Wait five seconds and then open the hatch! Aye! But don't hesitate! Aye! He who hesitates is lost! Aye! Or she! Aye! Good luck! Aye! Good fortune! Aye! Good journey! Aye! Good-bye!"

There was a noise as the valve was activated and we waited for five seconds before Violet opened the hatch. The passageway became flooded with water, and we were carried by the current into the dark, cold waters of the Gorgonian Grotto. I was unprepared for the darkness of the underwater cave, but the currents did carry us away from the submarine as I predicted. Within moments the Queequeg disappeared from sight as well as Violet, Sunny, and Fiona.

All around me was darkness. I could not tell where I was headed, however, I had a strange feeling that I was traveling upside down.

We drifted along in cold, dark silence, bewildered, frightened, and oddly lonely. When we had drifted to the surface, it felt as if I had been hypnotized again and was being jolted out of that trance. The tide pushed us onto something that felt like a beach, and we found ourselves crawling on a slope of dark, wet sand.

"Klaus?" Violet called through her helmet. "Are you there? What's happened?"

"I don't know," I replied. I could hardly see Violet even though she was right next to me. "We couldn't have reached the surface of the sea – we were very, very deep. Is Sunny with you?"

"Yes," Sunny said, from inside her helmet. "Fiona?"

"I'm here," came the voice of our friend, the mycologist. "But where are we? How can we still be below the surface of the sea, without any water around us?"

"I'm not sure," I said, "but it must be possible. After all, a submarine can be below the sea and stay dry."

"Are we on another submarine?" Violet asked.

"I dunno," Sunny said, and frowned in her helmet. "Look!"

We looked, although it took me a few seconds to realize what Sunny was talking about, as it was hard to see what direction their sister was pointing. But in a moment they saw two small lights, a short distance from where the volunteers were crawling. Uncertainly, Violet, Fiona, and I stood up and saw that the lights were coming from lamps.

Three floorlamps stood against the wall, not too far away. Each had a letter on its shade. The first lamp had a large V, and the second had an F. The third floorlamp had burnt out, and it was too dark to see it, however, I knew it must have a D on it. "What is this place?" Fiona asked, but as we stepped further up the beach, we could see clearly what kind of place it was.

The beach we had been carried to by the currents was within a narrow space. From the top of the slope of the beach, I surveyed the glossy tiled walls appearing wet and slippery. As for the floor, a collection of small objects had gathered here, in piles as well as nearly buried under the sand. The objects included bottles, in which some were already empty as well as cans that had managed to survive their journey. Books were scattered along the floor, wet from being submerged in water, and a few small cases that appeared to be locked. A roller skate was flipped upside down, and a deck of cards sat in two piles, as if someone were about to shuffle them. Pens were sticking out of the sand, and there were many more objects in which it was too dark to identify.

"Where are we?" Fiona asked. "Why isn't this place full of water?"

I glanced up, however, the darkness made it impossible to see very far. "This must be a passage of some sort," I said, "straight up to dry land – an island, maybe, or maybe it curves to the shore."

"Anwhistle Aquatics," Violet said thoughtfully. "We must be underneath its ruins."

"Oxo?" Sunny asked, meaning, "Does that mean we can breathe without our helmets?"

"I think so," I said before carefully removing my helmet. "Yes," I went on when I could tell it was safe. "We can breathe. Everybody take off their helmets – that way, our oxygen systems will recharge."

"But what is this place?" Fiona asked once more as she removed her helmet. "Why would anybody build a room way down here?"

"It looks like it's been abandoned," Violet said. "It's full of junk."

"Someone must come to change the light-bulbs," I pointed out. "Besides, all this junk was washed up here by the tide like us."

"And like sugar bowl," Sunny said.

"Of course," Fiona said, scanning the objects in the sand. "It must be here someplace."

"Let's find it and get out of here," Violet said. "I don't like this place."

"Mission," Sunny said, which meant, "Once we find the sugar bowl, our work here is done."

"Not quite," I said. "We'll still have to return to the Queequeg against the current, I might add. Looking for the sugar bowl is only half the battle."

We all nodded in agreement and got to work, searching for the sugar bowl amongst the sand.

"I've found a box of rubber bands," Violet said, after a few moments, "and a doorknob, two mattress springs, half a bottle of vinegar, and a paring knife, but no sugar bowl."

"I've found an earring, a broken clipboard, a book of poetry, half a stapler, and three swizzle sticks," I said, "but no sugar bowl."

"Three can soup," Sunny said, "jar peanut butter, box crackers, pesto, wasabi, lo mein. But nadasuchre."

"This is harder than I thought," I said. "What have you found, Fiona?"

It was silent, Fiona did not respond. "Fiona?" I asked again, turning to glance in her direction. Fiona was not focusing her attention on us, but something past us. Her eyes were wide with fear.

"Fiona?" I said, worried about what could have caused her panicked expression. "What have you found?"

Fiona swallowed, and gestured back down at the slope of sand. "Mycelium," she said in a faint whisper, at last, and we were dismayed to see that Fiona was right.

The Medusoid Mycellium had sprouted out of the sand, the fungus Fiona had described back on the Queequeg. I remembered how the mycelium waxed and waned. It must have been waning as we came ashore, however, time had passed and the mushrooms were in the process of waxing, sprouting along the beach and the walls. The mushrooms were dark gray with black splotches on the caps. They continued to sprout until it had reached halfway up the slope of the sand, threatening to engulf us. The entire beach was soon sprouted in mushrooms and we had to huddle on the sand, in the light of the floorlamps, until they waned once more. We felt trapped and frightened of the deadly fungus. At first it seemed that finding the sugar bowl would be 'half the battle', however I did not realize that soon we would be trying to withstand the poisonous spores of the mycelium.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Jamie Murray<strong>_

With a heavy heart, I made my way back to the part of the ship in which the new recruits still rowed. I couldn't erase Olaf's words from my mind. Of course I could never imagine myself as one of his henchwomen. It certainly didn't seem like my happiness would improve. Becoming a villain was completely out of the question. Maybe I haven't been the noblest person lately however, I wanted to try to be better. I already knew the answer was no. Yet I couldn't help contemplate the fact that my mother was a villain. Not only that, but she worked for Count Olaf. I couldn't imagine why anyone would agree to do such a thing if they had a choice. Somehow my mother's past brought a wave of shame over me. Even though I never really knew my mother, I always hoped that she would have at least been a good person to make up for being absent throughout my life. And now Olaf expected that I would be just like her and join him. He was wrong. I wasn't like that. I wouldn't join him—I _couldn't_.

Esmé and Carmelita had resumed their activities of ordering the recruits around and whacking them with the noodle. Carmelita was back to her concerts and as I entered she scowled at me, but then stepped back a little nervously as if she were afraid I was going to punch her again. I wasn't in the mood to sing right now and I don't think I would be allowed to anymore after what happened the last time. So I resorted to sitting. The recruits were focused on their task at the moment but I noticed them giving me secret grins whenever Carmelita and Esmé weren't looking. My mind was still focused on Olaf's sudden offer. Is it true that Esmé might appreciate me more for being a villain? Was that what she wanted from me? I did remember her trying to persuade me to join Olaf while we were staying at Caligari Carnival. But she was also trying to recruit those carnival freaks and plotting revenge on Madame Lulu all in one go. I hadn't thought too much of it then, since, Esmé was so concerned with exposing of Madame Lulu that I figured anything she did or said was only for her use. Maybe there was a bigger reason for why Esmé would prefer it if I were a villain. Afterall, it seems to run in my family, my mother was a villain and Esmé still is one.

I sighed. Why couldn't she just like me for who I was? Did she really have to be after my fortune? She already had so much money. I was reminded of our unusual conversation during lunch the other day. She had expressed that she had cared about my mother and I remembered how she teared up when she heard the song 'Don't Cry for Me Argentina'. Evita could be considered a moving show but I don't think one song was enough to make Esmé of all people shed even a single tear. She doesn't seem like the kind of person who gets over-emotional even if she's a good actress.

Speaking of Esmé, she decided to leave the room for a few moments with Carmelita to see what was going on with Olaf.

"Don't think about trying to slip away from us," Esmé warned me. "This submarine is designed to keep bratty children such as yourself from escaping. Stay here and make sure the new recruits are working." Then she threatened to use the noodle on the recruits if they tried to slack off while unsupervised by her.

Finally, they left and I couldn't help feel a sense of great relief. I needed to be able to think without Esmé and Carmelita going on about their fashion obsession.

"Sorry about this," I couldn't help saying to the recruits as I watched them miserably moving the long oars to steer the ship. I longed to help them in some way. Singing didn't seem to be enough to end their grief. "I wish there was a way I could help."

"It's not your fault, Jane," Megan said with a weary smile.

"It feels like it is," I muttered. "Count Olaf always gets away with everything. It's not fair." I felt suddenly angry as I thought of how he even got away with having my mother as his associate, he seemed to have taken nearly everything from me somehow effortlessly. I couldn't fall to his level the way he hoped. I couldn't let him win again. "It's not as if there's much I can do to help you anyways while we're stuck on this submarine. But if I don't figure out something soon. It will be too late and you will all be parentless and working for this evil man."

"It's not so bad," Connor's friend Will said. He was obviously trying to make himself and the others feel better about their situation. But his words were a clear understatement. It was blatant he didn't know just how terrible people like Olaf could be.

"You might think that now," I said to the Will. "You can all just give in to what these people want. But you don't understand how much worse it can get. Giving in to a life of crime won't get you anywhere. There's no place for happiness here. Only misery. If we could just find a way off of this submarine, perhaps we could all be saved."

"Even if we did escape," a girl, who had pin-straight caramel colored hair and hazel green eyes, pointed out. "Where could we go? Most of our boarding schools have been burned down and it would be difficult to contact our guardians."

I was silent for a moment, trying to think. Where could a bunch of kids go for safety until they could be returned home? And then it hit me. The last safe place! Of course!

"We could go to the last safe place of V.F.D.," I announced, lowering my voice so I wouldn't be overheard in case someone else was listening. "When Thursday arrives you'll all be safe."

There were murmurs of excitement while others looked confused. "What's V.F.D.?" Connor Samuels asked. "I heard those terrible adults mention something about it but I'm not sure if it's bad or good."

"I can't tell you here," I said, "in case they're listening however, you can trust the members of the organization to protect you from villains like Olaf."

Of course that wasn't exactly true but I didn't want to crush their hopes of being free of this cruelty.

"That sounds like a good plan," Claire said, "as long as we can come up with a way to get off of this submarine. Not all of us have proper diving equipment either. If we tried to escape by those dark waters, we will surely drown and we could get caught in a current."

"You and those horrible people are the only ones properly equipped," Nicole added.

"And it might not be a good idea to go swimming in those waters with that other submarine lurking nearby," I said. "Even Count Olaf seemed to be afraid of it."

"We can't escape without leaving the submarine. Can we?" a boy I vaguely recognized from Prufrock Prep said.

"Maybe," I said, What if there was a way we could get those villains to leave instead?" I suggested, slowly as the idea came to me. Suddenly it was as if a light bulb had turned on in my brain and I had a great idea. "What if we could take over the submarine? That way we could have a safer travel to the last safe place. It might not stop the villains completely if they're tossed out, but we'll at least delay them."

"How could we take over the submarine?" Charlie asked. "We're only kids."

"Yes, but we completely outnumber them," I said, growing excited as my plan to defy Count Olaf was forming. At last, I would have a chance to prove just how useful I could be without becoming a villain, "and we could use that to our advantage. It's better than sitting around and waiting for something to happen. I'm tired of not taking action."

"But they'd harm us if we tried," the girl with the caramel hair said. "One of them has hooks for hands and Count Olaf has that sharp sword."

"If we could get that sword out of the way," I said, "then perhaps we could toss them out. I'll see if I can steal it. Of course, we probably shouldn't use it to harm anyone." I knew one act like that would only prove Olaf right. I didn't want him thinking I was like my mother in that way. The stealing part didn't seem so bad because at least I would be preventing harm and the sword probably didn't even really belong to Olaf in the first place. "We can discuss our plans further later on. As soon as I get the sword we can take it over without a problem. So what do you all say? Are you up for taking action and escaping?"

There were several nods and cries of approval. However, some people looked a little skeptical.

"The plan seems too risky," a boy who appeared to have been hit multiple times by the noodle said. "If we fail, we'll be in worse trouble than we are now."

"It's true. I've been punished many times for escaping in the past," I said, "But we'll be in trouble which ever choice we make. If there's a chance of escaping this misery, why not take that risk? As long as we work together to do this, we could be free."

They murmured amongst themselves. Then I had an idea.

"Everyone!" I announced. "We should start by having a protest!"

"A protest?" One of them said. "But that will get us in trouble."

"Yeah," a girl said. "We'll get whacked with that noodle thing."

"Oh, that?" I said, "That's nothing! I've been hit with it numerous times and I'm fine. It's just a little sticky but it doesn't hurt too much."

"What should we do for the protest?" someone asked.

"Let's have everyone stop rowing!" I suggested.

Their eyes widened.

"Don't be afraid," I said, "we can do that and dance instead. That will really send a message. Come on!"

I grabbed began to sing and dance around:

"_Regrets collect like old friends_

_Here to relive your darkest moments_

_I can see no way, I can see no way_

_And all of the ghouls come out to play_

_And every demon wants his pound of flesh_

_But I like to keep some things to myself_

_I like to keep my issues drawn_

_It's always darkest before the dawn_

_And I've been fool and I've been blind_

_I can never leave the past behind_

_I can see no way, I can see no way_

_I'm always dragging that horse around_

_All of his questions, such a mournful sound_

_Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground_

_'Cause I like to keep my issues drawn_

_It's always darkest before the dawn_

_Shake it out, shake it out_

_Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa_

_Shake it out, shake it out_

_Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa_

_And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back_

_So shake him off, oh whoa."_

They began to move to the music a bit, not letting go of their oars quite yet.

"_And I am done with my graceless heart_

_So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart_

_'Cause I like to keep my issues drawn_

_It's always darkest before the dawn"_

Little by little, some of the kids began to neglect their oars to join in with the singing and dancing instead.

"_Shake it out, shake it out_

_Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa_

_Shake it out, shake it out_

_Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa_

_And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back_

_So shake him out, oh whoa_

_And it's hard to dance with the devil on your back_

_And given half the chance, would I take any of it back_

_It's a fine romance but it's left me so undone_

_It's always darkest before the dawn_

_And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't_

_So here's to drinks in the dark, at the end of my rope_

_And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope_

_It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat_

_'Cause looking for heaven, for the devil in me_

_Looking for heaven, for the devil in me_

_But what the hell, I'm gonna let it happen to me, yeah."_

Finally, the last group let go of the oars and joined in. As planned, the submarine came to a halt with a jolt. I knew it was a matter of time before Count Olaf or Esmé showed up, so I made the most of it.

"_Shake it out, shake it out_

_Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa_

_Shake it out, shake it out_

_Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa_

_And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back_

_So shake him off, oh whoa_

_Shake it out, shake it out_

_Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa_

_Shake it out, shake it out_

_Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa_

_And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back_

_So shake him off, oh whoa."_

We kept dancing and singing the chorus when suddenly, I bumped into someone.

"Oops, sorry!" I said, turning around and regretted it when I found myself face to face with Count Olaf, his eyes shining brightly and his fists clenched in anger.

* * *

><p><strong>Review! <strong>

**The song is _Shake it Out_ by Florence + the Machine**


	32. Lousy

**New chapter! Enjoy! :)**

**R&R please!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Lousy<strong>

"Lousy," Sunny said.

"This is not good news," I agreed. "Fiona, do you think we've been poisoned already?"

"No," Fiona said confidently. "The spores shouldn't reach us here. As long as we stay here at the far end of the cavern, and the mushrooms don't advance any further, we should be safe."

"It looks like they've stopped advancing," Violet said, pointing at the line of gray mushrooms, and it seemed she was correct as no new mushrooms sprouted anywhere close to us.

"I guess the mycelium has only grown that far," Fiona said. "We're very lucky."

"I don't feel very lucky," Klaus said. "I feel trapped. How will we get out of here?"

"There's only one way," Violet said. "The only path back to the Queequeg leads through those mushrooms."

"If we go through the mushrooms," Fiona said, "we'll most likely be poisoned. One spore could easily slip through our suits."

"Antidote?" Sunny asked.

"I might find the recipe for a cure," Fiona replied, "someplace in my mycological library. But we don't want to take that chance. We'll have to exit another way."

We were silent for a moment as we gazed up and around the dark cavern for any kind of passage for us to exit through. The darkness concealed mostly everything around us and the only light came from the two lamps. However, as I looked closely, I could make out a dark passage just above our heads. I looked to Violet who was running her hands along the slippery tiles of the wall, wearing a frown on her face while her other hand pulled out her hair ribbon to tie up her hair.

"Can we go out that way?" I asked. "Can you invent something to help us climb up that passageway?"

"Tingamebob," Sunny said, meaning, "There's plenty of materials here in the sand."

"Materials aren't the problem," Violet said, and peered up into the dark passage. "We're far below the surface of the water. It must be miles and miles to the surface. Even the best climbing device would wear out over the journey, and if it did we'd fall all the way down."

"But someone must use that passageway," I said. "Otherwise it wouldn't have been built."

"It doesn't matter," Fiona said. "We can't go out that way. We need to get to the Queequeg. Otherwise, my stepfather will wonder what's become of us. Eventually he'd put on his diving helmet and go investigate..."

"And the tide would carry him right into the poisonous fungus," I finished. "Fiona's right. Even if we could climb all the way up, it'd be the wrong way to go."

"But what else can we do?" Violet said, her voice rising. "We can't spend the rest of our lives in this miserable place!"

Fiona sighed as she gazed at the poisonous fungus. "_Mushroom Minutiae_ said that this fungus waxes and wanes. Right now it's waxing. We'll have to wait until it wanes again, and then run quickly over the sand and swim back down to the submarine."

"But how long will it be until it starts waning?" I said.

"I don't know," Fiona admitted. "It could be just a few minutes, or a few hours. It could even be a few days."

"A few days?" Violet said. "In a few days your stepfather will give up on us! In a few days we'll miss the V.F.D. gathering! We can't wait a few days!"

"It's our only choice," I said, placing a hand on Violet's shoulder to comfort her. "We can wait until the mushrooms disappear, or we can find ourselves poisoned."

"That's not a choice at all," Violet replied bitterly.

"It's a Hobson's choice," I said. "Remember?"

Violet looked at me and smiled. "Of course I remember," she said.

"Mamasan," Sunny said. Violet and I glanced at Sunny, and Violet scooped her up in her arms.

"Who's Hobson?" Fiona asked. "What was his choice?"

I smiled. "Thomas Hobson lived in Britain in the seventeenth century," he said. "He was in charge of a stable, and according to legend, he always told his customers they had a choice: they could take the horse closest to the door, or no horse at all."

"That's not really a choice," Fiona said.

Violet smiled. "Precisely," she said. "A Hobson 's choice is something that's not a choice at all. It's an expression our mother used to use. She'd say, 'I'll give you a Hobson's choice, Violet – you can clean your room or I will stand in the doorway and sing your least favorite song over and over.' "

Fiona grinned. "What was your least favorite song?" she asked.

"'Row, Row, Row Your Boat,' " Violet said. "I hate the part about life being but a dream."

"She'd offer me the Hobson's choice of doing the dishes or reading the poetry of Edgar Guest," I said with a grimace. "He's my absolute least favorite poet."

"Bath or pink dress," Sunny said.

"Did your mother always joke around like that?" Fiona asked. "Mine used to get awfully mad if I didn't clean my room."

"Our mother would get mad, too," I said. "Remember, Violet, when we left the window of the library open, and that night it rained?"

"She really flew off the handle," Violet said, "We spoiled an atlas that she said was irreplaceable."

"You should have heard her yell," Klaus said. "Our father came down from his study to see what was the matter."

"And then he started yelling, too," Violet said. She halted and I exchanged uncomfortable glances with my sisters. I knew they didn't like recalling the times when our parents yelled at us now that they were gone. I preferred to think about all the wonderful things about my parents. However, at this moment, my mind was wandering to the memory of that angry time in the library as well as several other not so great memories until my brain was filled with a mix of good and bad memories.

I wished I could forget that I ever remembered those bad moments from when my parents were still alive, but I couldn't go back now. Just like returning to our former lives before the fire could never happen.

"My brother used to get angry, too," Fiona said. "Before he disappeared, he would have awful fights with my stepfather – late at night, when they thought I was asleep."

"Your stepfather didn't mention that," Violet said. "He said your brother was a charming man."

"Maybe he only remembers the charming parts," Fiona replied. "Maybe he doesn't want to remember everything. Maybe he wants to keep those parts secret."

"Do you think your stepfather knew about this place?" I asked, my eyes roaming around the dark room. "He mentioned that we might find a place to take off our diving helmets, remember? It seemed strange at the time."

"I don't know," Fiona said. "Maybe that's another secret he was keeping."

"Like the sugar bowl," Violet said.

"Speaking which," Sunny said.

"Sunny's right," I said. "We should keep looking for the sugar bowl."

"It must be here someplace," Fiona agreed, "and besides, we need some way to pass the time until the fungus wanes. Everyone should spread out, and give a shout if you find the sugar bowl."

We nodded and got back to work, digging through the sand floor to examine the items we found. I uncovered a ring made of dull metal, a tiny hand puppet, and a box filled with toothpicks. There were all kinds of items buried there but nothing that resembled the sugar bowl. I sighed.

"I can't find much of anything either," Fiona said and I turned my head to see her beside me.

"The sugar bowl doesn't appear to be here," I said. "Where else could it have gone? I swore I read the tidal charts correctly."

"I'm sure you did," Fiona said, "perhaps this battle is a little more complicated than I thought."

"I hope the mushrooms begin waning," I said, "I don't like it here. I wish we were back on the submarine."

"Me too," Fiona said, "I hope my stepfather hasn't grown worried yet. I wouldn't want him coming out here only to get stuck in the Medusoid Mycellium."

I nodded and continued searching through the sand around me.

"So that friend of yours" Fiona started, "…is her name Janie?"

"Jane, actually," I said. "I suppose if you wanted you could call her Jamie, though she prefers being Jane."

"Right," Fiona said, "I was just thinking…you said she's in Count Olaf's clutches? How did that happen?"

"It started when we attended this boarding school in New York," I said, shuddering as I relived that dreadful time when Jane was taken from me. "Count Olaf was disguised as the acting teacher and persuaded Jane to go into his clutches in order to protect my siblings and I."

"And she never got out?" Fiona asked. "I don't trust much from what I've read in _The Daily Punctilio_, but I do remember an article on the Quagmires escaping from Olaf's clutches."

"We helped with that," I said, "unfortunately, Jane wasn't as lucky. It seems every time we're close to rescuing her, something happens and she slips away from us again. I hate it. I wish she were with us so at least we could make sure nothing harmed her. But even though sometimes I expected to see her again, I'm always worried about how hurt she'll be. She would have been here right now. If only…"

"If only what?" Fiona said, curiously.

"If only there had been more room on that toboggan," I said, "When we escaped from Mount Fraught, Jane was going to come with us. But there were six of us in all and the toboggan wasn't big enough. So Jane volunteered to stay behind. I regret letting her go though. I promised myself that I would rescue her but I failed. I keep failing her."

"Are you sure that's what happened?" Fiona said. "I mean, I don't know Jane in person so I can't be sure, but maybe she was…bluffing."

I frowned. "Jane would never bluff to stay in Olaf's clutches," I said, trying to stay calm. I didn't like Fiona for trying to accuse Jane of such things. She would never do that. I knew Jane. I trusted her with my life.

"It seems so strange that she could live her whole life, not knowing what her name was," Fiona said, "Did you ever wonder if maybe she lied about being Jane Rumary?"

"I guess I wondered that when she first told me," I said, "but Jane told me she didn't know about it and I believe her. Now can you please stop accusing Jane of such things? I trust Jane and you should too."

"Look," Fiona said, "I'm sorry. It's only because I've heard a bit about this…Murray family from my stepfather. Of course, he wouldn't give me details but he did mention Abigail Murray as some kind of criminal. She did bad things when she was alive. After learning all of that, you can understand why I'd question Jane's loyalty. I mean, isn't her aunt Esmé Squalor? Villainy is in her _blood._ I wouldn't be surprised if she turned to Olaf's side of the schism too."

"I don't care!" I said, heatedly but trying to still keep my voice down, "It doesn't matter to me that Esmé's her aunt or that her mother was a villain. Jane is a noble person. In fact, she's a better person than I am. She saved me when I was hypnotized, she sacrificed her own life to protect ours many times, and she's one of the most kind-hearted people we've met. She would never ever be a villain. You know that expression, 'Don't judge a book by its cover,'. Well, I think you shouldn't judge Jane because of what her relatives were like. I'm not sure if you knew, but Jacques Snicket, a volunteer and a noble person, was her Godfather. In any case, I wouldn't judge Jane. If you ever had villainy in your family, Fiona, I'll still trust that you're still a good person. You see, it's accusations like those that probably initiated the schism in the beginning."

Fiona sighed. "I'm sorry," she said, with an apologetic expression on her face. "I guess I'm just being too judgemental. Perhaps you're right."

"That's alright," I decided, feeling her apology was sincere. "I suppose I can understand. Sometimes it can be difficult to know who you can trust. But I trust Jane better than anyone. She's my best friend." I blinked as tears began to fill my eyes. As I said the words aloud, it made me realize just how much I missed her. It wasn't the same without her around. I knew if she were here, she'd find a reason to smile. Every time she smiled, it was a flicker of hope. I couldn't stand it if I lost her. She would never know how I felt. "Actually, I've been wanting to tell Jane something for a while now. But she keeps slipping away from us."

"What's that?" Fiona asked.

Before I could respond, Sunny interrupted me, "Snack!" she cried, suddenly, which meant, "Why don't we stop for a bite to eat?"

We didn't discuss the matter further and went to indulge in the snack Sunny prepared.

"Thanks, Sunny," Fiona said, taking a cracker spread with peanut butter. "I must say, Baudelaires, I'm getting frustrated. My hands ache from all that digging, but there's no sign of the sugar bowl."

"I'm beginning to think this is a fool's errand," Violet said. "We journeyed all the way down here to find a crucial item, and instead it seems like we're finding nothing but junk. It's a waste of time."

"Not necessarily," I said. I studied the items I found in the sand while eating a cracker. "We may not have found the sugar bowl, but I think we did find some crucial information."

"What do you mean?" Violet said.

"Look at this," I said, and showed her the book of poetry I discovered. "It's a collection of poetry, and most of it is too damp to read. But look at the title page." I opened the book to the title page to show them the writing there.

"Versed Furtive Disclosure," Violet read out loud.

"V.F.D.," Sunny said.

"Yes," I said. " 'Furtive' means 'secretive,' and 'disclosure' means 'to reveal something.' I think V.F.D. may have hidden things here – not just the sugar bowl, but other secrets."

"That would make sense," Violet said. "This grotto is a bit like a secret passageway – like the one we found underneath our home, or the one Quigley found underneath his."

Fiona nodded, and began to search through a pile of items she had taken from the sand. "I found an envelope earlier," she said, "but I didn't think to open it. I was too busy concentrating on the sugar bowl."

"Punctilio," Sunny said, holding up a torn and tattered sheet of newspaper. The headline had "V.F.D." circled.

"I'm too exhausted to dig anymore," Violet said. "Let's spend some time reading instead. Klaus, you can examine that poetry book. Fiona, you can see if there's anything worthwhile in that envelope. And I'll take a look at the clipping Sunny found."

"Me?" Sunny asked.

"Why don't you cook us something, Sunny," I suggested, grinning. "Those crackers just whetted my appetite."

"Pronto," my younger sister promised, examining foodstuffs she had found in the sand, most of which were sealed up tight.

Sunny started to make a meal for us while we studied the items we found. I scanned the poetry book I discovered for any information that seemed important. I took notes on all that I found and a long time passed before Sunny was finished preparing her meal. I wasn't sure whether I was more interested in eating than gathering information.

"What is this?" Violet asked Sunny as she peered into the fishbowl Sunny was using as a serving dish.

"Pesto lo mein," Sunny explained.

"What my sister means," I explained to Fiona, "is that she found a package of soft Chinese noodles, which she tossed with an Italian basil sauce she got out of a jar."

"That's quite an international combination," Fiona said.

"Hobson," Sunny said, meaning, "I didn't have much choice, given our surroundings," and then showed us another item she had found. "Wasabi?"

"What's wasabi?" Violet asked.

"It's a Japanese condiment," I said. "It's very spicy, and often served with fish."

"Why don't we save the wasabi, Sunny," Violet said, taking the tin of wasabi and putting it in the pocket of her uniform. "We'll take it back to theQueequeg and you can use it in a seafood recipe."

Sunny nodded in agreement, and passed the fishbowl us. "Utensi," she said.

"We can use these swizzle sticks as chopsticks," I said. "We'll have to take turns, and whoever isn't eating can tell us what they've discovered. Here, Fiona, why don't you go first?"

"Thanks," Fiona said with a smile, taking the swizzle sticks. "I'm quite hungry. Did you learn anything from that poetry book?"

"Not as much as I would have liked," I said. "Most of the pages were soaked from their journey, and so I couldn't read much. But I believe I've learned a new code: Verse Fluctuation Declaration. It's a way to communicate by substituting words in poems."

"I don't understand," Violet said.

"It's a bit tricky," I said, opening my notebook where I had taken notes. "The book uses a poem called 'My Last Duchess,' by Robert Browning, as an example."

"I've read that," Fiona said, twirling a few noodles around a swizzle stick to get them into her mouth. "It's a very creepy story about a man who murders his wife."

"Right," I said. "But if a volunteer used the name of the poem in a coded communication, the title might be 'My Last Wife' instead of 'My Last Duchess,' by the poet 'Obert Browning' instead of Robert Browning."

"What purpose would that serve?" Violet said.

"The volunteer reading it would notice the mistake," I said. "The changing of certain words or letters is a kind of fluctuation. If you fixed the fluctuations in the poem, you'd receive the message."

"Duchess R?" Fiona asked. "What kind of message is that?"

"I'm not sure," I confessed. "The next page in the book is missing."

"Do you think the missing page is a code, too?" Violet asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said. "Codes are nothing more than a way of talking so that some people understand and other people don't. Remember when we talked to Quigley in the cave, with all the other Snow Scouts listening?"

"Yes," Violet said. "We used words that began with V, F, and D, so that we knew we were all on the same side."

"Maybe we should have a code ourselves," Fiona said, "so that we can communicate if we run into trouble."

"That's a good idea," I said. "What should we use as code words?"

"Food," Sunny suggested.

"Perfect," Violet said. "We'll draw up a list of foods and what they mean in our code. We'll bring them up in conversation, and our enemies will never suspect that we're actually communicating."

"And our enemies could be around any corner," Fiona said, passing the lo mein to Violet and picking up the envelope she had found. "Inside this envelope was a letter. Normally I don't like to read other people's mail, but it seems unlikely that this letter will ever reach Gregor Anwhistle."

"Gregor Anwhistle?" Violet asked. "He's the man who founded the research center. Who was writing to him?"

"A woman named Kit," Fiona said. "I think it's Kit Snicket—Jacques's sister."

"Of course," I said. "Your stepfather said she was a noble woman who helped build the Queequeg."

"According to her letter," Fiona said, "Gregor Anwhistle was involved in something called a 'schism.' What's that?"

"It was a big conflict within V.F.D.," I said. "Quigley told us a little bit about it."

"Everybody chose sides," Violet added, "and now the organization is in chaos. Which side was Gregor on?"

"I don't know," Fiona said with a grimace. "Some of this letter is in code, and some of it was in water. I can't understand all of it, but it sounds like Gregor was involved with something called Volatile Fungus Deportation."

" 'Volatile' means 'unstable,' or 'likely to cause trouble,' " I said. " 'Fungus,' of course, means 'mushrooms,' and 'deportation' means 'moving something from one place to another.' Who was moving unstable mushrooms?"

"V.F.D.," Fiona replied. "During the schism, Gregor thought the Medusoid Mycelium might be useful."

"The Medusoid Mycelium?" Violet said, looking nervously at the silent, gray mushrooms that still lined the entrance to the small, tiled room, their black splotches looking particularly eerie in the dim light. "I can't imagine thinking that such deadly things could be useful."

"Listen to what Kit wrote about it," Fiona said. " 'The poisonous fungus you insist on cultivating in the grotto will bring grim consequences for all of us. Our factory at Lousy Lane can provide some dilution of the mycelium's destructive respiratory capabilities, and you assure me that the mycelium grows best in small, enclosed spaces, but this is of little comfort. One mistake, Gregor, and your entire facility would have to be abandoned. Please, do not become the thing you dread most by adopting the destructive tactic of our most villainous enemies: playing with fire."

I quickly copied the letter into my notebook. "Gregor was growing those mushrooms," I said, "to use on enemies of V.F.D."

"He was going to poison people?" Violet asked.

"Villainous people," Fiona replied, "but Kit Snicket thought that using poisonous mushrooms was equally villainous. They were working on a way to weaken the poison, in a factory on Lousy Lane. But the writer of this letter still thought that Volatile Fungus Deportation was too dangerous, and she warned Gregor that if he wasn't careful, the mycelium would poison the entire research center."

"And now the center is gone," Violet said, "and the mycelium remains. Something went very wrong, right here where we're sitting."

"I still don't understand it," I said. "Was Gregor a villain?"

"I think he was volatile," Fiona said, "like the Medusoid Mycelium . And the writer of this letter says that if you cultivate something volatile, then you're playing with fire."

Violet shuddered and put down the fishbowl. It was unsettling for me, as well, to think about all the times we had played with fire or the fires ignited in this very room. We were all silent. I looked around at the mushrooms surrounding us as I wondered what could have happened here that was so wrong. It brought to mind the question of how the schism started and of all the other villainous and unknown things that filled our miserable lives. I wondered if those villains like Olaf would ever fall or if the mysteries would be solved.

"Wane," Sunny said suddenly. She was right.

As I looked, the mushrooms appeared to abate, disappearing into the sand.

"Sunny's right," I said with relief. "The Medusoid Mycelium is waning. Soon it'll be safe enough to return to the Queequeg."

"It must be a fairly short cycle," Fiona said, jotting it down in her commonplace book. "How long do you think we've been here?"

"All night, at least," Violet said, unfolding the piece of newspaper Sunny discovered. "It's lucky we found all these materials, otherwise we would have been quite bored."

"My brother always had a deck of cards with him," Fiona remembered, "in case he was stuck in a boring situation. He invented this card game called Fernald's Folly, and we used to play it together whenever we had a long wait."

"Fernald?" Violet asked. "Was that your brother's name?"

"Yes," Fiona said. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious," she said, as she quickly put the newspaper in her pocket with the wasabi.

"Aren't you going to tell us what was in the newspaper?" I asked, looking at Violet in confusion. "I saw the headline said V.F.D."

"I didn't learn anything," Violet said. "The article was too blurred to read."

"Hmmm," Sunny said, and looked at Violet suspiciously. I knew Sunny suspected that Violet was lying. Afterall, we've known her all our lives. I wonder what she was keeping secret.

Violet looked back at Sunny, and then at me, shaking her head and giving us a look that I knew meant she didn't want us to say anything about it. "Why don't we get ready to go?" my older sister recommended. "By the time we pack up these documents and put on our diving helmets, the fungus will have waned completely."

"You're right," Fiona said. "Here, Sunny, I'll help you get into your helmet. It's the least I can do after you cooked such a delicious meal."

"Shivalrush," Sunny said, meaning, "'That's very kind of you."

Even though Fiona was not used to Sunny's way of speaking, she seemed to understand what she was saying and all three of us a smile. Despite the conversation we had earlier about Jane, I couldn't help but smile back and forgive her. I really liked Fiona and it felt as though we were on the same side, discovering secrets and putting a stop to villainy. The way I felt about Jane before she was taken away. In fact, when I glanced in Fiona's direction, I found butterflies swarming in my stomach, leaving me confused since my mind was also on Jane. They were both so different yet my heart sped up when I was near either one of them. It was almost too soon. Jane never even knew how I felt and now Fiona comes into my life to confuse the way I felt. I wasn't sure what I wanted anymore. perhaps, the answer would come to me soon. It couldn't be nearly as difficult as the unsolved mysteries before us. I just hoped that Fiona would stay safe and maybe soon Jane will join us again. However, as I glanced in Violet's direction, I noticed her frowning still. What wasn't she telling us and why? I continued to ponder what could be the matter as we put on our diving helmets and packed up to go. We held hands as we traveled against the current, Fiona holding my hand, Violet holding Fiona's other hand, and Sunny held by Violet.

I led the way to the Queequeg, using my hand to feel the path ahead of us so we wouldn't miss the submarine, though, I was a little nervous about my hand accidentally grazing the walls of the cavern. I could feel Fiona trembling behind me. I kept going with the hopes that we would reach it soon.

Eventually, my hands found the submarine and I knocked on the metal hatch. There was no reply from the captain to invite us in. that was when I knew something was wrong. We tried knocking more times but still no one answered and we ended up opening it ourselves. When we climbed down the ladder and into the room below, closing the hatch behind us. However, water flowed to the bottom, as there was no switch activated to clear the water.

"Captain Widdershins?" Violet called, her voice muted due to her helmet. "Stepfather?" Fiona called, also muffled by her helmet.

"Phil?" I called.

"Crew?" Sunny called.

Nobody answered these calls, and nobody was here to meet us.

"Stepfather?" Fiona called again, but there was nothing except for the sound of water flowing down the passage. Without removing our helmets, we hurried down the hallway, until we got to the Main Hall.

The room hadn't changed much except for the decorations Captain Widdershins and Phil planned to set up to surprise Violet for her birthday celebration. Three small, blue balloons were tied to separate chairs. The first balloon had a letter "V", the second a letter "F", and the third had a letter "D", all inscribed with black ink.

"V.F.D.," Violet said. "Do you think it's a code?"

"I'm not interested in codes at the moment," Fiona said, in a anxious, echoey voice from inside her helmet. "I want to find my crewmates. Look around, everyone."

We searched but it was completely empty of our crewmates, making the Main Hall feel entirely deserted.

"Maybe they're in the kitchen," I said even though I didn't believe that myself, "or napping in the barracks."

"They wouldn't have napped," Violet said. "They said they'd be watching us the entire time."

Fiona took a step toward the door to the kitchen, but then stopped and looked at the wooden table. "Their helmets are gone," she said. "Both Phil and my stepfather were keeping their diving helmets on the table, in case of an emergency." Her hand trailed along the table where the helmets had been. "They're gone," she said. "They've left the Queequeg."

"I can't believe that," I said, shaking my head in disbelief. "They knew we were traveling through the grotto. They wouldn't abandon their fellow volunteers."

"Maybe they thought we weren't coming back," Fiona said.

"No," Violet said, gesturing at a panel on the wall. "They could see us. We were tiny green dots on the sonar detector."

We gazed at the sonar panel, hoping that we would see two dots that would reveal where our missing crewmates had gone. "They must have had a very good reason to leave," Fiona said.

"What reason could there be?" I said. "No matter what occurred, they would have waited for us."

"No," Fiona said. Sadly, she pulled off her diving helmet, so I could see the tears in her eyes. "No matter what occurred," she said, "my stepfather wouldn't have hesitated. He or she who hesitates is..."

"Lost," I finished, understanding, and laying my hand on her shoulder.

"Maybe they didn't go of their own volition," Violet said, using a word that meant 'choice'. "Maybe somebody took them."

"Took the crew away," I said, "and left behind three balloons?"

"It's a mystery," Violet said, "but I'm sure it's one we can solve. Let's just take off our helmets, and we can get to work."

I nodded in agreement, taking off my helmet to place it beside Fiona's. Violet did the same and then went to take Sunny out of her helmet. But just as Violet's hand was about to reach the helmet, Fiona's hand reach out to grab her hand, halting her as she pointed out something gray in color inside.

"It's the Medusoid Mycelium," Fiona said in a horrified whisper. I blinked, my mind unable to comprehend if what she said and then at once, it became clear and I could see that the gray substance was indeed the deadly fungus growing on the walls.

"Oh no," Violet murmured. "_Oh no_!"

"Get her out!" I cried in horror. "Get Sunny out at once, or she'll be poisoned!"

"No!" Fiona said, and snatched the helmet away from us and placed it on the table. "The diving helmet can serve as quarantine. If we open it, the fungus will spread. The entire submarine could become a field of mushrooms."

"We can't leave our sister in there!" Violet cried. "The spores will poison her!"

"She's probably been poisoned already," Fiona said quietly. "In a small, enclosed space like that helmet, there's no way she could escape."

"That can't be true," I said, removing my glasses, unable to realize what I knew was true. Then, Sunny uttered a strange noise like a cough that reminded me of how the salmon of the Stricken Stream coughed due to the ash-contaminated water.

"Sunny!" I shouted into the helmet.

"Malady," Sunny said, meaning, "I'm beginning to feel unwell."

"Don't talk, Sunny!" Fiona called, and turned to face us. "The mycelium has destructive respiratory capabilities," she explained, moving over to the sideboard. "That's what it said in that letter. Your sister should save her breath. The spores will make it more and more difficult for Sunny to talk, and she'll probably start coughing as the fungus grows inside her. In an hour's time, she won't be able to breathe. It would be fascinating if it weren't so horrible."

"_Fascinating?_" Violet covered her mouth with her hands and shut her eyes. "What can we do?" she asked.

"We can make an antidote," Fiona said. "There must be some useful information in my mycological library."

"I'll help," I said. "I'm sure I'll find the books difficult to read, but –"

"No," Fiona said. "I need to be alone to do my research. You and Violet should climb that rope ladder and fire up the engines so we can get out of this cave."

"But we should all do the research!" Violet cried. "We only have one hour, or maybe even less! If the mushrooms grew while we swam back to the Queequeg, then–"

"Then we certainly don't have time to argue," Fiona finished, opening the cabinet and removing a large pile of books. "I order you to leave me alone, so I can do this research and save your sister!"

I exchanged glances with Violet, and we looked toward the diving helmet where Sunny was kept. "You order us?" I asked.

"Aye!" Fiona exclaimed. I realized it was the first time she ever said it. "I'm in charge here! With my stepfather gone, I am the captain of the Queequeg! Aye!"

"It doesn't matter who the captain is!" Violet said. "The important thing is to save my sister!"

"Climb up that rope ladder!" Fiona cried. "Aye! Fire up those engines! Aye! We're going to save Sunny! Aye! And find my stepfather! Aye! And retrieve the sugar bowl! Aye! And it's no time to hesitate! She who hesitates is lost! That's my personal philosophy!"

"That's the captain's personal philosophy," I said, "not yours."

"I am the captain!" Fiona said fiercely. I noticed the tears in her eyes behind her triangular glasses. "Go and do what I say."

I began to open my mouth to say more, but found myself welling up as well. I turned to the rope ladder without another word with Violet following behind. "She's wrong!" she whispered furiously. "You know she's wrong, Klaus. What are we going to do?"

"We're going to fire up the engines," I said, "and steer the Queequeg out of this cave." "But that won't save Sunny," Violet said. "Don't you remember the description of the Medusoid Mycelium ?"

"'A single spore has such grim power,' " I recited, "'that you may, die within the hour.' Of course I remember."

"I hour?" Sunny said frightfully from inside her helmet.

"Shush," Violet said. "Save your breath, Sunny. We'll find a way to cure you right away."

"Not right away," I explained sadly. "Fiona is the captain now, and she ordered us—"

"I don't care about Fiona's orders," Violet said. "She's too volatile to get us out of this situation—just like her stepfather, and just like her brother!"

Violet withdrew from her pocket the piece of the newspaper she brought with her from the grotto. "Listen to this, Klaus!"

"I don't want to listen!" I said in a heated whisper. "Maybe Fiona is right! Maybe we shouldn't hesitate, particularly at a time like this! If we don't get an antidote to our sister, she might perish! Hesitating will only make things worse!"

"Firing up the engines, instead of helping Fiona with her research, will only make things worse!" Violet said.

At that moment, I glanced out at the porthole of the submarine and found something that was about to make our dire situation even worse. It was a mass of metal tubes that were small and circled around the gloomy water, creating many bubbles. there was a vast open space as if it were the mouth of an octopus. It was Count Olaf and I knew everything would be downhill from here.

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><p><strong>Not so great for the Baudelaires or poor Sunny :( I'll update soon though!<strong>

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	33. Triangle Eyes

**New chapter...ENJOY! :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Triangle Eyes <strong>

"What is going on?" Count Olaf growled, emphasizing each word. He withdrew his sword, waving it in my face. "Why have my recruits stopped rowing?"

I know I had planned for Olaf to notice our protest yet, I couldn't help shivering in fear. I swallowed and took a deep breath, knowing I had to follow through with my plan. Besides, I've been through worse. I could handle this.

"It was my idea," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I told them to stop rowing. I suppose they assumed I had the authority to order them around."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You have _no_ authority anywhere, orphan," he said with shiny eyes, "unless, of course, you proved yourself worthy of it."

"I told you no," I muttered.

"Fine then," Olaf said. "Get back to work!" he ordered the recruits. Esmé took out the noodle and began to hit some of the recruits until they obeyed, backing up Olaf's demands.. Olaf still looked angry as he gazed back at me; however, it quickly faded as a wide, mocking grin replaced his frown. "You can try as much as you can to sabotage my plans," he said, "but it won't change what you know is true. You might as well accept the fact that you'll eventually join me."

"Well, y-you're wrong," I said, looking away. I had to keep it together.

"We'll see about that," Olaf said, his eyes shining brightly. "Now, I have some business to attend to concerning an enemy of mine. Or should I say _enemies_. In fact," his eyes widened as if he'd just had another wicked idea, "why don't you come? I'll be locking all of you in the brig anyways."

I furrowed my eyebrows. Who could he be talking about? It could be the Baudelaires, but he probably had a lot of enemies and the Baudelaires were on their way to the last safe place.

"The Baudelaires aren't in there," I said. "They're safe. At the last safe place." I hope.

"Ho ho hee hee ha ha!" he crowed. "I'm overjoyed to say that you're wrong tort tort! You see, while you were busy being useless and accomplishing nothing ha hee hopa hee, I snuck up on the Queequeg submarine! Ho ho ho rumor has it that those friends of yours have been hiding out on it!"

"No," I gasped, my eyes widening, which made Olaf's eyes shine brightly.

"That's right, Blondie!" he boasted, "To think, I thought they perished after seeing the destroyed tobbogan floating in the stream! Ha ha ho! It's comical! It's ironic! It's so droll that those brats won't be able to breathe when they see me! Hee hee ha ha ho tort tort! It's so hilarious, that they'll die of laughter! Hee hee snaggle! As we speak, _the_ _Carmelita _is devouring the Baudelaires and then I'll be the richest man in the world! Sniggle snaggle triumphant!"

"_No!_" I cried, louder this time, my mouth agape in horror.

"Oh, yes!" Olaf cried. "Ha ha Baudelaires in deep trouble tort tort when I get my hands on them heepa ho ho hee hee!" His laughter died out but his expression was still one of triumph. "Now do you still think joining me is a terrible idea? At least you might escape from being a prisoner for the rest of your life unlike the bratty Baudelaire orphans."

"No way," I spat, crossing my arms firmly.

"No matter." he said, "There's still plenty of time to decide. Meanwhile, come with me to greet your poor, doomed friends! Tee hee ho! Then I'll toss all four of you into the brig with hooky! Heepa-heepa ho!"

Olaf grabbed my arm, towing me out of the room to where a submarine was tumbling inside this much larger one. I already knew the Baudelaires were inside, of course, but that didn't erase the despair in my gut as I saw each of them through the porthole. If they weren't about to be placed in Olaf's clutches, I would've been excited to see them, however, our lives didn't work that way. I've known that for a while now.

"We'll see about that," I muttered and his grip tightened on my arm.

I was dragged to a platform as the submarine the Baudelaires occupied stopped before the platform. Count Olaf wore a triumphant grin as he peered through the porthole at the three figures within, Violet, Klaus, and a girl with triangular shaped glasses. I wondered who that could be…she didn't look like Sunny or Melissa Sampson. In fact, where were Sunny, Quigley, and Melissa? I hoped they were okay. When Count Olaf spotted them, and his atrocious new laugh erupted from his opened mouth.

"Ha ha ha heepa-heepa ho!" Olaf cried. "Tee hee tort tort tort! Hot cha ha ha! Sniggle hee! Ha, if I do say so myself!"

In an arrogant manner, he let go of my arm to jump off the platform and sliced open the glass window of the submarine with his sword, making an unpleasant screech. He flicked his sword and the glass circle fell into the large room inside the submarine. He grabbed my arm again and leaped onto the wooden table, dragging me along with him. I was face to face with the Baudelaires again after what felt like so long. They were each dressed in a slippery uniform similar to the one Olaf, myself, and the rest of his crew wore but instead of a portrait of this poet I think is Edgar Guest, there was a portrait of a man with a white beard and mustache.

I wished that we could have reunited in a much more pleasant situation. Though I still found myself happy to see that they were at least alive and well. Klaus' brown eyes were wide, particularly when they met mine. In that moment, I felt an enormous weight lifting off my shoulders. My best friend was here along with my other good friends. The feeling only lasted for a few seconds, however, since there was nothing truly pleasant about our situation. My relief was quickly replaced by despair, as I feared the worst would happen. What if Count Olaf tried to kill one of them with his sword? Would I be able to protect them? This time there didn't seem to be any way of escaping and there wasn't a flock of owls with letters to distract the villains. I realized, then, that if I wanted to rescue the Baudelaires, then perhaps my plan to take over the ship might need to happen soon. It was our only hope.

"I'm splitting my sides!" Olaf cried. "I'm rolling in the aisles! I'm nauseous with mirth! I'm rattling with glee! I'm seriously considering compiling a joke book from all of the hilarious things bouncing around my brain! Hup hup ha ha hammy hee hee!"

Violet hurried to grab a helmet from the wooden table and as I looked closer, my eyes widened as I realized Sunny was inside. I looked from Sunny, to Violet, to Klaus, and lastly at Fiona. She was frowning at me for some reason. When she noticed me looking in her direction, her frown deepened. Feeling confused, I looked away, wondering what I did to make her feel that way towards me. I've never met her in my life.

"Stop laughing, Count Olaf," Violet said. "'There's nothing funny about villainy."

"Sure there is!" Olaf crowed. "Ha ha hat rack! Just imagine it! I made my way down the mountain and found pieces of your toboggan scattered all over some very sharp rocks! Tee hee torpid sniggle! I thought you had drowned in the Stricken Stream and were swimming with all those coughing fishes! Ho ho hagfish! I was brokenhearted!"

"You weren't brokenhearted," Klaus said. "You've tried to destroy us plenty of times."

"That's why I was brokenhearted!" Olaf cried. "Ho ho sniggle! I personally planned to slaughter you Baudelaires myself, after I had your fortune of course, and pry the sugar bowl out of your dead fingers or toes!"

I saw Violet and Klaus, exchanging glances. My eyes widened as I remembered them telling Olaf that they knew where the sugarbowl was located. Though I wasn't so sure they had been speaking the truth.

"To cheer myself up," Olaf went on, "I met my associates at the Hotel Denouement, where they were cooking up a little scheme of their own, and convinced them to lend me a handful of our new recruits. Tee hee turncoat! In fact, I'm sure you'll recognize them. They were taken from a variety of boarding schools, from Prufrock Prep, to that New York Boarding school, to Jane's first boarding school, and other places that you'll never live to see. Thanks to the generosity of my associates, I was able to get this submarine working again! Sniggle ha ho ho! Of course, I need to be back at the Hotel Denouement before Thursday, but in the meantime I had a few days to kill, so I thought I'd kill some of my old enemies! Tee hee halbert sniggle! So I began roaming around the sea, looking for Captain Widdershins and his idiotic submarine on my sonar detector! Tee hee telotaxis! But now that I've captured the Queequeg, I find you Baudelaires aboard! It's hilarious! It's humorous! It's droll! It's relatively amusing!"

"How dare you capture this submarine!" the girl with the triangular glasses cried. "I'm the captain of the Queequeg, and I demand that you return us to the sea at once! Aye!"

Count Olaf looked down at the girl. "Aye?" he repeated. "You must be Fiona, that little fungus freak! Why, you're all grown up! The last time I saw you, I was trying to throw thumbtacks into your cradle! Ha ha hot polloi! What happened to Widdershins? Why isn't he the captain?"

"My stepfather is not around at the moment," the girl named Fiona answered, blinking.

"Hee hee terry cloth!" Count Olaf said. "Your stepfather has abandoned you, eh? Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time. Your whole family could never choose which side of the schism was theirs. Your brother used to be a goody-goody as well, trying to prevent fires instead of encouraging them, but eventually—"

"My stepfather has not abandoned me," Fiona said, though she didn't sound confident. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her even though she had looked at me oddly. I knew what it was like to be abandoned.

"We'll see about that," Olaf said, grinning wickedly. "I'm going to lock all of you in the brig, which is the official seafaring term for jail."

"We know what the brig is," Klaus said.

"Then you know it's not a very pleasant place," the villain said. "The previous owner used it to hold traitors captive, and I see no reason to break with tradition."

"We're not traitors, and we're not leaving the Queequeg," Violet said, and lifted the diving helmet. Sunny tried to speak, but she coughed instead. She seemed very ill and I worried about her. What was that gray stuff in her helmet?

"What's that?" Olaf demanded.

"Sunny is in here," Violet said. "And she's very ill."

"Oh no," I said, worriedly. "What happened?"

"I was wondering where the baby brat was," Count Olaf said, as if I hadn't spoken. "I was hoping she was trapped underneath my shoe, but I see that it's just some ridiculous book."

His foot moved off a book titled_, Mushroom Minutiae_, and kicked it off the table so that it skidded into a corner of the room.

"There is a very deadly poison inside that helmet," Fiona said, gazing at the book in aggravation. "Aye! If Sunny doesn't receive an antidote within the hour, she will perish."

"What do I care?" Olaf growled. "I only need one Baudelaire to get my hands on the fortune. Now come with me! Ha ha handiwork!"

"I care," I cried, "I won't go anywhere until Sunny is safe."

"We're staying right here," Klaus said. "Our sister's life depends on it."

Count Olaf glowered at me as he drew his sword again, slashing the air. "Silence, Blondie." Then he looked at the Baudelaires. "I'll tell you what your lives depend on," he said. "Your lives depend on me! If I wanted, I could drown you in the sea, particularly, Jane since she can't swim, tee hee hee. Or I could have you strangled by the arms of the mechanical octopus! It's only out of the kindness of my heart, and because of my own greed, that I'm locking you in the brig instead!"

"Your heart must be pretty small then," I muttered under my breath as Sunny coughed loudly inside the helmet.

"If you let us help our sister," Violet said, quickly, "we'll tell you where the sugar bowl is."

Count Olaf's eyes narrowed into slits at them, a wicked grin spreading across his face. His eyes were shining brightly as they had numerous times before.

"You can't try that trick again," he sneered. "I'm not going to bargain with an orphan, no matter how pretty she may be. Once you get to the brig, you'll reveal where the sugar bowl is – once my henchman gets his hands on you. Or should I say hooks? Hee hee torture!"

Count Olaf hopped out of the submarine and back onto the platform. Violet, Klaus, and I exchanged fearful looks. I shuddered, recalling the time when the hook-handed man really had gotten his hooks on me. I still had a scar from it on my shoulder.

"I could race up the rope ladder," Violet murmured to the others, "and fire up the engines of the Queequeg."

"We can't take the submarine underwater with the window gone," Fiona said. "We'd drown."

Klaus brought the diving helmet to his ear as Sunny whimpered, coughing some more. "But how can we save Sunny?" he asked. "Time is running out."

"I'm sorry," I said, saddened by the thought that they were in jeopardy and I was unable to help them. "I wish there was something I could do to help. But it's pretty much impossible while Olaf still has that sword. I've been meaning to steal it…"

"It's not your fault, Jane," Klaus said, "You've been through enough trouble of your own. I don't think stealing that sword will make a difference."

Fiona glanced at the corner where the book lay. "I'll take that book with me," she said, "and—"

"Hurry up!" Count Olaf cried. "I can't stand around all day! I have plenty of people to boss around!"

"Aye!" Fiona said.

I sighed and went through the porthole and onto the platform with Violet, holding Sunny, and Klaus followed.

"I'll be there in a second," Fiona said, and started toward the book.

"You'll be there now!" Olaf growled, and waved his sword at her. "He who hesitates is lost! Hee hee sniggle!"

Fiona sighed. "Or she," she said softly. She followed us through the porthole.

"On the way to the brig, I'll give you the grand tour!" Olaf announced. He led the way out of the room that was still flooded with water. Sunny coughed inside her helmet again as Olaf pushed the eye button on the wall, the door sliding open to the corridor leading to enormous room with the recruits. "This submarine is one of the greatest things I've ever stolen," he bragged. "It has everything I'll need to defeat V.F.D. once and for all. It has a sonar system, so I can rid the seas of V.F.D. submarines. It has an enormous flyswatter, so I can rid the skies of V.F.D. planes. It has a lifetime supply of matches, so I can rid the world of V.F.D. headquarters. It has several cases of wine that I plan to drink up myself, and a closet full of very stylish outfits for my girlfriend. And best of all, it has plenty of opportunities for children to do hard labor! Ha ha hedonism!"

I looked toward the recruits and some of them peeked up at me. I glanced at the sword Olaf had and back at the recruits to wink. I was determined to steal his sword so at least I could carry out my part of the plan. The rest would have to be up to them to follow through. I noticed Violet and Klaus' eyes widening as they recognized some of the people from Prufrock Prep, the Snow Scouts, and the New York boarding school.

"Do you see them?" I whispered to Klaus. "Megan, Claire, Connor, Nicole…even Christina and Kate."

"This is awful," Klaus whispered back, "This must be what happened to the students after the fire."

My eyes widened, I already knew that, of course. Duncan and Isadora told me while we were trapped at the bottom of the elevator shaft. I guess it had just slipped my mind and suddenly, it pieced together. The fire was probably a scheme to recruit students rather than just to destroy evidence.

"It's a good thing Melissa did get out," Violet said softly, "or she might have wound up here too."

"What happened to them?" I asked.

Violet looked down, gloomily at the ground.

"They fell off the toboggan," Klaus said, "and we got separated by the two tributaries of the Stricken Stream. That's the last time we saw them."

"Oh no," I said, saddened by the loss of yet two more of our fellow volunteers. "I'm sorry. Do you think we'll ever see them again?"

"Not while you're in my clutches, you won't," Olaf growled with a triumphant chuckle. "In fact, you may never see the sky again, it'll be blocked out by all the smoke I'm going to make."

I grimaced at the horrible thought of the world literally going up into flames.

"There are people from my first boarding school too," I whispered, "You would think Carmelita might stand up for her posse but she's far too concerned with being adored by Esmé."

"Well, she probably realized," Olaf said, giving me a knowing grin, "that those people weren't her friends and that a life of villainy was much more satisfying." I knew he was referring to our conversation earlier, but I wouldn't have it.

I scowled. "Or maybe because she has no consideration for other people," I muttered, looking away.

Esmé was back to ordering them around. Carmelita wasn't around; she was probably still recovering from when I punched her.

"Row faster, you stupid brats!" Esmé cried in a wicked voice. "We have to get back to the hotel Denouement before Thursday, and it's Monday already! If you don't hurry up I'm going to hit you with this tagliatelle grande! I warn you, being struck with a large piece of pasta is an unpleasant and somewhat sticky experience! Ho ho sniggle!"

"Hee hee snaggle!" Olaf cackled in agreement, and Esmé spun around.

"Darling!" she cried.

"I still can't believe you're related," Klaus whispered from beside me, making a small grin appear on my face. It was true. Even though Esmé was my aunt, we were complete opposites. I wondered if I was like my mother had been. I hoped I didn't get the bad parts. I glanced quickly toward the helmet Sunny was in, wishing I could help them cure her. As I lifted my eyes from the helmet, I met another darker pair of eyes behind a pair of triangular glasses, still angry looking as she stared at me. Why did she hate me?

Esmé walked over to Olaf and then peered at us, well, the Baudelaires and Fiona mostly.

"Are these the Baudelaires?" she asked in amazement. "How can that be? We already celebrated their deaths!"

"It turns out they survived," Count Olaf said, "but their good luck is about to come to an end. I'm taking them to the brig!"

"The baby certainly has grown," Esme said, peering at Fiona. "But she's just as ugly as she ever was."

"That's not Sunny," I said, "No one can grow that quickly."

Esmé frowned at me. "I wasn't talking to _you_, was I?"

"No, no," Olaf said. "The baby's locked up in that helmet, coughing her little lungs out. This is Fiona, Captain Widdershin's stepdaughter. The captain abandoned her!"

"Abandoned her?" Esmé repeated. "How in! How stylish! How marvelous! This calls for more of our new laughter! Ha ha hedgehog!"

"Tee hee tempeh!" Olaf roared. "Life keeps getting better and better!"

"Sniggle ho ho!" Esmé shrieked. "Our triumph is just around the corner!"

"Ha ha hepplewhite!" Olaf crowed. "V.F.D. will be reduced to ashes forever!"

"Giggle giggle glandular problems!" Esmé cried. "We are going to be painfully wealthy!"

"Heepa heepa ho ho ha!" Olaf shouted. "The world will always remember the name of this wonderful submarine!"

"What is the name of this submarine?" Fiona asked, causing the villains to pause in their laughter.

Count Olaf glowered in Fiona's direction and then glanced at the ground. "_The Carmelita_," he confessed, in a low voice. "I wanted to call it _the Olaf_, but somebody made me change it."

"_The Olaf _is a cakesniffing name!" Carmelita cried and came skipping into the room. She had a white piece of cloth on her nose where I had hit her. She started sneering at the Baudelaires and Fiona.

"Stop looking at my outfit!" she commanded the Baudelaires scornfully. "You're just jealous of me because I'm a tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian!"

"You look adorable, darling," Esmé purred, patting her on her pink crown. "Doesn't she look adorable, Olaf?"

"I suppose so," Count Olaf muttered. "I still wish you would have asked me before taking disguises from my trunk."

"But Countie, I needed your disguises," Carmelita whined. She did the whole batting her eyes trick that she always used to get her way. "I needed a special outfit for my special tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian dance recital!"

The recruits groaned and I couldn't help rolling my eyes.

"Please, no!" one of the Snow Scouts cried. "Her dance recitals last for hours!"

"Have mercy on us!" cried Charlie.

"Let Jane do it instead!" the girl with the caramel colored hair pleaded. "At least she can sing!"

I couldn't help smile at the compliment. "Thanks," I said.

"Carmelita Spats is the most talented dancer _and_ singer in the entire universe!" Esmé growled, snapping the noodle over the rower's heads. "You brats should be grateful that she is performing for you! It'll help you row! Jane isn't allowed to perform any longer after the trouble she caused!"

Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"Later," I whispered quickly.

"Ugh," Sunny uttered.

I exchanged worried glances with the Violet and Klaus again.

"I think we have a pink cape aboard the Queequeg," Klaus said quickly. "It would look perfect on Carmelita. I'll just run back to the submarine, and—"

"I don't want your old clothes, you cakesniffer!" Carmelita said disdainfully. "A tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian doesn't wear hand-me-downs!"

"Hey," I protested, "Klaus is not a cakesniffer!"

"Isn't she precious" Esmé cooed, ignoring me. "She's like the adopted child I never had—except for you Baudelaires and Jamie, of course. But I never liked either of you much."

I scowled at the floor. Her words brought me back to what Count Olaf had said about Esmé possibly liking me better for being a villain. So what if she hated me? I didn't like her either…maybe I didn't want an aunt afterall.

"Are you going to stay and watch me, Countie?" Carmelita asked. "This is going to be the most special dance recital in the whole wide world!"

"There's too much work to do," Count Olaf said hurriedly. "I have to throw these children in the brig, so my associate can force them to reveal the location of the sugar bowl and so Blondie won't cause anymore trouble."

"You like that sugar bowl more than me," Carmelita pouted.

"Of course we don't, darling," Esmé said. "Olaf, tell her that sugar bowl doesn't mean a thing to you! Tell her she's like a wonderful marshmallow in the middle of our lives!"

"You're a marshmallow, Carmelita," Olaf said, and shoved us out of the enormous room. "I'll see you later."

"Tell Hooky to be extra vicious with those brats!" Esme cried, using the tagliatelle grande as a whip over her head. "And now, on with the show!"

We were brought down the hallway that was very twisty.

"So," I started as we walked. "I really admire that sword you've got. Do you think I could hold it for a minute?"

I sighed. So that wasn't the best way to steal the sword, but it was the only way I could think of right now.

Olaf glowered at me. "I'm not giving you a sword," he growled. "You've caused enough trouble. Besides, the sword belongs to the captain. And that's me! No matter what the submarine is called. Though, I suppose if you're so interested in weaponry right now, I can give you something on certain _conditions_." He winked and I shuddered.

"Don't know what you're talking about," I said, "but no thank you."

Finally, we halted when reaching a small door, with a metal eye instead of a doorknob.

"This is the brig!" Count Olaf cried. "Ha ha haberdasher!"

Sunny coughed once more, sounding louder and much rougher than before.

"Please let us go back to the Queequeg," Violet said. "Can't you hear her coughing?"

"Yes," Count Olaf said, "but I don't care."

"Please!" Klaus cried. "This is a matter of life and death!"

"It certainly is," Olaf sneered, turning the knob. "My associate will make you reveal the location of the sugar bowl if he has to tear you apart to do it!"

"You have to let us save her," I said, "she can't die!"

"Listen to my friends!" Fiona said. "Aye! We're in a terrible situation!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Count Olaf said and smiled evilly as he opened the door to an empty and small room. Only a stool sat inside where the hook-handed man sat, shuffling a deck of cards as best as he could. "How can a family reunion be a terrible situation?" Olaf said, and threw us inside and slammed the door forcefully, closed behind us.

We turned to face the hook-handed man, who was shuffling a deck of cards. I did not like the idea of being trapped in this room alone with Olaf's associate and I was worried about what was going to happen to Sunny. The hook-handed man rose suddenly, looking in the direction of Fiona and waving at her in disbelief. Fiona beamed back at him and my eyebrows furrowed.

"Fiona!" the hook-handed man cried.

"Fernald!" Fiona said.

What could this mean? Was Sunny going to be rescued or was Fiona deceiving us all?

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	34. Defection

**New chapter and so quick! I couldn't wait to post this next chapter :) ENJOY!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Defection <strong>

Fiona and the hook-handed man embraced, causing a wave of sadness to wash over me. I had lost so many people in my life. I only had one family member left that I knew existed. Yet this Fiona girl has just been reunited with who I discovered was her long-lost brother. And that person, despite their differences was glad to see her too. Esmé barely paid any attention to me besides when she was scolding me or insulting me. The last time I was reunited with a relative, I had to watch him die before I ever really knew him. It wasn't fair.

"Fiona!" the hook-handed man cried. "Is it really you?"

"Aye," the girl with the triangle glasses said, taking them off of her nose to brush her tears away. "I never thought I would see you again, Fernald. What happened to your hands?"

"Never mind that," the hook-handed man said quickly. "Why are you here? Did you join Count Olaf, too?"

"Certainly not," Fiona said firmly. "He captured the _Queequeg_, and threw us into the brig."

"So you've joined the Baudelaire brats and Blondie," the hook-handed man said. "I should have known you were a goody-goody!"

"I haven't joined the Baudelaires or…" she glanced at me, frowning and wrinkling her nose again. "…_Jamie_. The Baudelaires have joined me. Aye! I'm the captain of _the Queequeg_ now."

"You?" said Olaf's henchman. "What happened to Widdershins?" "He disappeared from the submarine," Fiona replied. "We don't know where he is."

"I don't care where he is," the hook-handed man sneered. "I couldn't care less about that mustached fool! He's the reason I joined Count Olaf in the first place! The captain was always shouting 'Aye! Aye! Aye!' and ordering me around! So I ran away and joined Olaf's acting troupe!"

"But Count Olaf is a terrible villain!" Fiona cried. "He has no regard for other people. He dreams up treacherous schemes, and lures others into becoming his cohorts!"

"Those are just the bad aspects of him," the hook-handed man said. "There are many good parts, as well. For instance, he has a wonderful laugh."

"A wonderful laugh is no excuse for villainous behavior!" Fiona said.

"Let's just agree to disagree," the hook-handed man replied. He waved one of his hooks carelessly at his sister. "Step aside, Fiona. It's time for the Baudelaire orphans to tell me where the sugar bowl is."

He scraped his hooks together, sharpening them and advancing on the Baudelaires. I prepared to put myself in between them if he made any move to harm them.

"We don't know where the sugar bowl is," Violet said.

"My sister is telling the truth," Klaus said. "Do with us what you will, but we won't be able to tell you anything."

"It's true," I said. "Don't harm them."

The hook-handed man glared at us, and scraped his hooks together once more.

"You're liars," he said. "Both of you are rotten orphan liars."

"It's true, Fernald," Fiona said. "Aye! Finding the sugar bowl was the _Queequeg's _mission, but so far we've failed."

"If you don't know where the sugar bowl is," the hook-handed man said angrily, "then putting you in the brig is completely pointless!"

He whirled around, angrily kicking his small stool, letting it fall over. Then he kicked the wall. "What am I supposed to do now?" he sulked.

Fiona placed a hand on one of her brother's hooks. "Take us back to the _Queequeg_," she said. "Sunny is in that helmet, along with a growth of Medusoid Mycelium."

"Medusoid Mycelium?" the hook-handed man repeated, gasping in horror. "That's a very dangerous fungus!"

"She's in grave danger," Violet said. "If we don't find a cure very, very soon, she'll die."

The hook-handed man frowned, glancing at the helmet where Sunny was coughing. Then he shrugged.

"Why should I care if she dies?" he asked. "She's made my life miserable from the time I met her. Every time we fail to get the Baudelaire fortune, Count Olaf yells at everyone!"  
>"Actually, he blames me," I muttered.<p>

"You're the one who made the Baudelaires' lives miserable," Fiona said. "Count Olaf has performed countless treacherous schemes, and you helped him time and time again. Aye! You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

The hook-handed man sighed, glancing down at the floor.

"Sometimes I am," he confessed. "Life in Olaf's troupe sounded like it was going to be glamorous and fun, but we've ended up doing more murder, arson, blackmail, and assorted violence than I would have preferred."

"This is your chance to do something noble," Fiona said. "You don't have to remain on the wrong side of the schism."

"Oh, Fiona," the hook-handed man said, putting a hook around her shoulder, awkwardly. "You don't understand. There is no wrong side of the schism."

"Of course there is," Klaus said. "V.F.D. is a noble organization, and Count Olaf is a terrible villain."

I bit my lip as I gazed down at the floor as I tried not to think about my mother.

"A noble organization?" the hook-handed man said. "Is that so? Tell that to your baby sister, you four-eyed fool! If it weren't for Volatile Fungus Deportation, you never would have encountered those deadly mushrooms!"

My eyes widened. So V.F.D. was the reason for this deadly poison?

"Everyone has done things they're not proud of," I whispered. "That doesn't mean they're not good people."

"You would know all about that, right Blondie?" the hook-handed man named Fernald said, narrowing his eyes at me. I averted my eyes, but was startled to see Fiona scowling at me yet again. She was definitely related to Fernald. They both hated me.

Violet reached into her pocket and brought out a newspaper clipping. She held it out so we all could read the headline from _The Daily Punctilio_ article.

"'VERIFYING FERNALD'S DEFECTION,'" she read aloud. "By Jacques Snicket." My eyebrows raised and I listened carefully. "It has now been confirmed that the fire that destroyed Anwhistle Aquatics, and took the life of famed ichnologist Gregor Anwhistle, was set by Fernald Widdershins, the son of the captain of _the Queequeg_ submarine. The Widdershins family's participation in a recent schism has raised several questions regarding..." Violet glanced up at the hook-handed man who gave her a cool glare. "The rest of the article is blurry," she said, "but the truth is clear. You defected – you abandoned V.F.D. and joined up with Olaf!"

"The difference between the two sides of the schism," Klaus said, "is that one side puts out fires, and the other starts them."

Olaf's associate caught the article on one of his hooks and began to read it again. "You should have seen the fire," he said quietly. "From a distance, it looked like an enormous black plume of smoke, rising straight out of the water. It was like the entire sea was burning down."

"You must have been proud of your handiwork," Fiona said bitterly.

"Proud?" Fernald said. "It was the worst day of my life. That plume of smoke was the saddest thing I ever saw." He used his other hook to tear the article to pieces. "_The Daily Punctilio_ got everything wrong," he said. "Captain Widdershins isn't my father. Widdershins isn't my last name. And there's much more to the fire than that. You should know that the Daily Punctilio doesn't tell the whole story, Baudelaires. Just as the poison of a deadly fungus can be the source of some wonderful medicines, someone like Jacques Snicket can do something villainous, and someone like Count Olaf can do something noble. Even your parents—"

"Don't talk about Jacques Snicket that way," I said, defensively. I couldn't bear to think of another family member of mine as a villainous person. If that were true, I think my heart just might break even more. "He was my God father and he was a good man."

"And how long have you known him?" Fernald sneered.

I crossed my arms.

"Our stepfather knew Jacques Snicket," Fiona said, on my side for once. "Jamie is right. He was a good man, but Count Olaf murdered him." I shivered as images from that night tainted my mind. "Are you a murderer, too? Did you kill Gregor Anwhistle?"

There was a moment of grim silence as the hook-handed man held out his hooks to us. "The last time you saw me," he said to Fiona, "I had two hands, instead of hooks. Our stepfather probably didn't tell you what happened to me – he always said there were secrets in this world too terrible for young people to know. What a fool!"

"Our stepfather isn't a fool," Fiona said. "He's a noble man. Aye!"

"People aren't either wicked or noble," the hook-handed man said. "They're like chef's salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict." He looked at the Baudelaires and I, pointing his hooks at us. "Look at yourselves, Baudelaires. Jamie. Do you really think we're so different? If you did a little research, Jamie, you might realize exactly who you are. I knew your mother when she was alive. I witnessed the things she did. You're no different than she was. Weren't you the one who volunteered to push Madame Lulu into the lion pit? Aren't you the reason why Count Olaf found out the Baudelaires were disguised as carnival freaks?"

I worriedly glanced at the Baudelaires who gazed at me with wide eyes. Fiona didn't look surprised, choosing to glower at me instead.

"Is that true Jane?" Violet asked. Her eyebrows furrowed.

I paused, looking guiltily at the ground. I couldn't fool the Baudelaires any longer. "It's not what you think," I said. I glanced in Klaus' direction horrified that they might think ill of me after this. Klaus only looked at me with sad eyes and I knew the idea would hurt him. When our eyes met, he looked away and it felt like someone was clawing at my heart.

"You have things you're not proud of too, Baudelaires," Fernald said, "When those eagles carried me away from the mountains in that net, I saw the ruins of that fire in the hinterlands—a fire we started together. You've burned things down, and so have I. You joined the crew of the _Queequeg_, and I joined the crew of the _Carmelita_. Our captains are both volatile people, and we're both trying to get to the Hotel Denouement before Thursday. The only difference between us is the portraits on our uniforms."

"We're wearing Herman Melville," Klaus said. "He was a writer of enormous talent who dramatized the plight of overlooked people, such as poor sailors or exploited youngsters, through his strange, often experimental philosophical prose. I'm proud to display his portrait. But you're wearing Edgar Guest. He was a writer of limited skill, who wrote awkward, tedious poetry on hopelessly sentimental topics. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"If it were up to me, I'd trade uniforms in a heartbeat," I said. Although it was the truth, I felt my outburst was only a pathetic attempt to gain back their trust. Klaus still didn't even look at me.

"Edgar Guest isn't my favorite poet," the hook-handed man admitted. "Before I joined up with Count Olaf, I was studying poetry with my stepfather. We used to read to one another in the Main Hall of the _Queequeg_. But it's too late now. I can't return to my old life."

"Maybe not," Klaus said. "But you can return us to _the Queequeg_, so we can save Sunny."

"Please," Sunny pleaded in a hoarse voice. Then she began to cough desperately as the rest of us were silent. The hook-handed man muttered to himself, pacing from one end of the room to the other as he contemplated his decision.

I gazed at his hooks, recalling all of the times he had threatened me with them and the one time his threats became an action. It was hard to imagine such a despicable person be capable of noble deeds. Watching him felt as though I were searching a bowl of chefs salad for anything noble. Finally, the hook-handed man halted in front of us, placing his hooks on his hips, and providing us with a difficult choice.

"I'll return you to _the Queequeg_," he said, "if you take me with you."

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	35. A Clock Is Ticking

**New chapter! Only two more until the end of TGG! :) Oh also...it's 11/11 so make a wish! :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: A Clock Is Ticking<strong>

"Aye!" Fiona said. "Aye! Aye! Aye! We'll take you with us, Fernald! Aye!"

My eyes widened and I felt uneasy. I was glad that he was helping us rescue Sunny, though I wasn't so sure about letting him come with us on the _Queequeg_. It was something we just might regret.

"I'm so glad," the hook-handed man said, giving us a smile. "I have lots of ideas about where we could go after we get off the _Carmelita_."

"Well, I'd certainly like to hear them," Fiona said. "Aye!"

"Perhaps we could discuss such things later," Violet said. "I don't think now is a good time to hesitate." "

Aye!" Fiona said. "She who hesitates is lost!"

"Or he," Klaus reminded her giving her a small smile. "We've got to get to the _Queequeg_ right away."

"Wait," I said, "Klaus, I—"

"Let's go Jane," Klaus said, still not looking at me. "We can talk once we're all safe and alive."

"Okay," I murmured so quietly, I barely heard it myself.

Fernald opened the door of the brig, peering up and down the corridor. "This will be tricky," he said, gesturing to us to follow him with one of his hooks. "The only way back to the _Queequeg_ is through the rowing room, but that room is filled with children we've kidnapped. Esmé took my tagliatelle grande and is whipping them so they'll row faster."

"Is there any way to sneak past them?" Violet asked.

"We'll see," Olaf's henchman said. "Follow me." He walked down the deserted corridor with the five of us following behind. Violet and Klaus were walking with Fiona and I joined them. Feeling awkward and as if everything was going from bad to worse.

"Fiona, are you sure you want to take him with us?" Klaus asked, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. "He's a very dangerous and volatile man."

"He's my brother," Fiona replied in a stern whisper, "and I'm your captain. Aye! I'm in charge of the _Queequeg_. So I get to choose its crew."

"We know that," Violet said, "but we just thought you might want to reconsider."

"Never," Fiona said firmly. "With my stepfather gone, Fernald may be the only person I have left in my family. Would you ask me to abandon my own sibling?"

Sunny uttered a horrible coughing noise, desperately as if in reply. I frowned. I didn't particularly like Fiona but I did understand. I wondered how I would feel if Esmé was ever in danger? Would I care? I wasn't so sure. I mean, why should I since she never even gave me the time of day?

"Of course we wouldn't," Klaus said.

"You're lucky," I said to Fiona. "I wish I had a sibling or a relative who cared that much for me."

Fiona narrowed her eyes at me. "_Lucky?_" she said in a sneer.

"Stop muttering back there," the hook-handed man ordered, as he led us through the winding corridor. "We're approaching the rowing room, and we don't want anyone to hear us."

We were silent as we stopped at the door to the rowing room and the hook-handed man waved his hook over an eye on the wall to open the door. I almost groaned when I heard the piercing, obnoxiously loud voice of Carmelita Spats as she did her recital.

"For my third dance," I could hear her saying, "I will twirl around and around while all of you clap as hard as you can. It is a dance of celebration, in honor of the most adorable tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian in the world!"

"Please, Carmelita," one of the children begged. "We've been rowing for hours. Our hands are too sore to clap." There was that wet slap noise and I knew someone was being hit with the noodle. I glanced up at the hook-handed man who had just made a decision to possibly become a good person. Fiona would have what she wanted. Esmé was not even close to changing a thing about her stance.

"You will participate in Carmelita's recital," the woman who was supposed to be my aunt announced, "or you will suffer the sting of my tagliatelle grande! Ha ha hoity-toity!"

"It's not really a sting," said one of the children, sounding brave. "It's more of a mild, wet slap."

"Shut up, cakesniffer!" Carmelita ordered, and the children heard the rustle of her pink tutu as she began to twirl. "Start clapping!" she shrieked, and then began to sing.

_ "C is for 'cute,'"_ Carmelita sang,

_"A is for 'adorable'! _

_ R is for 'ravishing'! _

_ M is for 'gorgeous'!_

_E is for 'excellent'!_

_L is for 'lovable'!_

_I is for 'I'm the best'!_

_T is for 'talented'!_

_ and A is for 'a tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian'!_

_ Now let's begin my whole wonderful song all over again!" _

"I can't stand her voice," Violet said. "It reminds me of the cawing of the V.F.D. crows."

"I can't stand the lyrics," Klaus said. "Someone needs to tell her that 'gorgeous' does not begin with the letter M."

"I tried to," I said, "she won't listen, of course."

"I can't stand the brat," the hook-handed man said bitterly. "She's one of the reasons I'd like to leave. But this sounds like as good a time as any to try to sneak through this room. There are plenty of pillars to hide behind, and if we walk around the very edge, where each oar sticks through the wall into the tentacles of the octopus, we should be able to get to the other door—assuming everybody is watching Carmelita 's tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian dance recital."

"Maybe I should go and distract them," I said. "I'll stay behind and you can go to the _Queequeg_. I'm better off here anyways."

"We're not happy with you Jane," Violet said, "but we're not going to leave you behind."

"Enough chit chat," the hook-handed man said. "Let's get going."

"Your plan seems like it's very risky," Violet said.

"This is no time to be a coward," the hook-handed man growled.

"My sister is not a coward," Klaus said. "She's just being cautious."

"There's no time to be cautious!" Fiona said. "Aye! She who hesitates is lost! Aye! Or he! Let's go!"

Not another word was said as the hook-handed man pressed the eye on the wall, the door sliding open to reveal the rowing room. I peered inside. Esmé watched Carmelita dance and sing with a proud smile on her face and a large noodle in one of her tentacles. The children watched miserably. I felt suddenly guilty that I was about to leave this submarine without them. I wasn't sure how I felt about leaving them all behind. What would become of them? I followed behind the Baudelaires who followed Fiona and her brother, carefully around the outside of the room as Carmelita performed.

We hid behind a pillar by the time C was announced. When A and R were sung about, we snuck past the moving oars, being careful not to trip. As Carmelita reached M for "gorgeous", the hook-handed man gestured at a far door. At E and L, we ducked behind another pillar, praying that we wouldn't be seen. While Carmelita sang about how she was the best and boasted about her talent, Esmé frowned and spun around, blinking in confusion. I was with the Baudelaires, behind a pillar just a few feet from our goal and we had to flatten ourselves on the floor so we wouldn't be seen. When Carmelita reminded the audience of her being a tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian, I realized we were farther ahead of Fiona and the hook-handed man.

We were beginning to inch our way to the door as Carmelita belted about singing the song all over again.

"C is for—cakesniffers!" she shouted. "What are you doing here?"

We froze and I was relieved to see Carmelita pointing disdainfully at Fiona and her brother who stood awkwardly between two oars.

"How dare you, Hooky?" Esme said, reaching for her noodle as though she was thinking of hitting him with it. "You're interrupting a very in recital by an unspeakably darling little girl!"

"I'm very sorry, your Esmeness," the hook-handed man said, stepping forward to bow in front of her. "I would sooner lose both hands all over again than interrupt Carmelita when she's dancing."

"But you did interrupt me, you handicapped cakesniffer!" Carmelita pouted. "Now I have to start the entire recital all over again!"

"No!" cried one of the rowing children. "Anything but that! It's torture!"

"Speaking of torture," the hook-handed man said quickly, "I stopped by to see if I could borrow your tagliatelle grande. It'll help me get the Baudelaires to reveal the location of the sugar bowl."

Esme frowned. "I don't really like to lend things," she said. "It usually leads to people messing up my stuff."

"Please, ma'am," Fiona said. "We're so close to learning the location of the sugar bowl. Aye! We just need to borrow your noodle, so we can return to the brig."

"Why are you helping Hooky?" Esme said. "I thought you were another goody-goody orphan."

"Certainly not," the hook-handed man said. "This is my sister, Fiona, and she's joining the crew of the _Carmelita_."

"Fiona isn't a very in name," Esme said. "I think I'll call her Triangle Eyes. Are you really willing to join us, Triangle Eyes?"

"Aye!" Fiona said. "Those Baudelaires are nothing but trouble."

"Why are you still talking?" demanded Carmelita. "This is supposed to be my special tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian dance recital time!"

"Sorry, darling," Esme said. "Hooky and Triangle Eyes, take this noodle and scram!"

They walked to the middle of the room, standing right in front of Esmé, giving us a good opportunity to escape and slip out of the room without being seen.

"Do you think Fiona will join us?" Violet asked.

"I don't think so," Klaus said. "They told Esme they'd return to the brig, so they'll have to go back the way we came."

"You don't think she's really joining Olaf's troupe, do you?" Violet said.

"Of course not," Klaus said. "That was just to give us an opportunity to get out of the room. Fiona may be volatile, but she's not _that_ volatile."

"Of course not," Violet said, though she didn't sound confident.

"Of course not," Klaus repeated, as Sunny coughed from inside her helmet. "Hang on, Sunny," he called to her. "You'll be cured in no time!" He seemed as though he was trying to sound confident.

I stared at Sunny, inside the diving helmet. Poor Sunny. I'd do anything to cure Sunny. I wished it were me. I wish I were the one dying from a poisonous mushroom instead of Sunny.

"How are you going to cure Sunny," Violet said, "without Fiona?"

"We'll have to research it ourselves," Klaus said firmly.

"We'll never read her entire mycological library in time to make an antidote," Violet said.

"We don't have to read the entire library," Klaus said, as they reached the door to the _Queequeg's_ brig. "I know just where to look."

I mustered a small smile. "The table of contents, right?" I said.

Klaus sighed. "Yes," he said. His eyes flickered to my face for the first time since he found out. It was brief though, making me feel even worse.

Sunny coughed once more and wheezed. I wished I could take her out of there without getting everyone else poisoned.

"I hope you're right," Violet said.

I pressed the metal eye on the wall so the door slid open and we hurried for the submarine.

"Sunny's hour must almost be up." Klaus said sadly.

"An _hour_?" I said with wide eyes. "That's all the time she has?"

Klaus nodded grimly. "Much less now I'm afraid."

"_Oh no_," I whispered, horrified.

Klaus frowned at me and then jumped through the porthole onto the large wooden table. The Main Hall was deserted with three lonely balloons tied to the table legs were beginning to sag. There were charts of some sort that had fallen to the floor along with the glass circle Count Olaf had cut in the porthole. Klaus went immediately to the book, _Mushroom Minutaie. _

"This book should have information on the antidote," he said, and turned immediately to the table of contents as I followed with Violet carrying Sunny through the porthole into the submarine. "Chapter Thirty-Six, _The Yeast of Beasts_. Chapter Thirty-Seven, _Morel Behavior in a Free Society_. Chapter Thirty-Eight, _Fungible Mold, Moldable Fungi_. Chapter Thirty-Nine, _Visitable Fungal Ditches_. Chapter Forty, _The Gorgonian Grotto_."

"That's it!" Violet said. "Chapter Forty."

Klaus turned to the page indicated by the table of contents. "_'The Gorgonian Grotto_,' " he read, "'located in propinquity to Anwhistle Aquatics, has appropriately wraithlike nomenclature—'"

"We know all that,"' Violet said quickly. "Skip to the part about the mycelium."

Klaus's eyes scanned the page quickly. "'TheMedusoid Mycelium has a unique conducive strategy of, waxing—'"

"And waning," interrupted Violet as Sunny continued to wheeze. "Skip to the part about the poison."

"'As the poet says,'" Klaus read, "_'A single spore has such grim power / That you may die within the hour. Is dilution simple? But of course! / Just one small dose of root of horse.'_"

"That's strange," I said.

"'Root of horse?'" Violet repeated. "How can a horse have a root?"

"I don't know," Klaus said. "Usually antidotes are certain botanical extractions, like pollen from a flower, or the stem of a plant."

"Does 'dilution' mean the same thing as 'antidote?" Violet asked. Sunny wheezed again, and the diving helmet rocked back and forth as she struggled against the fungus.

Klaus glanced at the book he held, at Violet, and then reached into his pocket.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Getting my commonplace book," Klaus replied. "I wrote down all the information on the history of Anwhistle Aquatics that we found in the grotto."

"We don't have time to look at your research!" Violet said. "We need to find an antidote this very minute! Fiona's right—He or she who hesitates is lost."

Klaus shook his head. "Not necessarily," he said, and flipped a page of his dark blue notebook. "If we take one moment to think, we might save our sister. Now, what did Kit Snicket write in that letter? Here it is: 'The poisonous fungus you insist on cultivating in the grotto will bring grim consequences for all of us. Our factory at Lousy Lane can provide some dilution of the mycelium's destructive respiratory capabilities...' That's it! V.F.D. was making something in a factory near Lousy Lane that could dilute the effects of the mycelium."

"That was the awful smelling road to Uncle Monty's house," I said.

Violet nodded. "It smelled like black pepper," She said, "No, not black pepper..."

Klaus looked at his commonplace book, and then at _Mushroom Minutiae_. "Horseradish," he said quietly. "The road smelled like horseradish! 'Root of horse'! Horseradish is the antidote!"

Violet was already striding to a room that I assumed was the kitchen and I quickly followed. "Let's hope Phil likes to cook with horseradish," she said, and pushed open the door.

Klaus picked up the helmet Sunny was in and followed us into the tiny kitchen. There was scarcely enough room for us to stand in the small space between the stove, the refrigerator, and two wooden cabinets.

"The cabinets must serve as a pantry," Klaus said, "Horseradish should be there—if he has it."

I shuddered to think about there being no horseradish on the shelves. Unfortunately, there was no horseradish in any of the cupboards.

"Gum," Violet said faintly. "Boxes and boxes of gum Phil brought from the lumbermill, and nothing else. Did you find anything, Klaus?...Jane?"

"I found other spices," I said, "but no horseradish. I'm sorry."

Klaus pointed to a pair of small cans on one shelf of his cupboard, and held up a small paper bag. "Two cans of water chestnuts," he said, "and a small bag of sesame seeds." His fist closed tightly around the bag, and he blinked back tears behind his glasses. "What are we going to do?"

Sunny wheezed once more, sounding like a lone train going through a tunnel.

"Let's check the refrigerator," Violet said. "Maybe there's horseradish in there."

Klaus and I nodded. He opened the kitchen's refrigerator, which was almost as bare as the pantry. On the top shelf were six small bottles of lemon-lime soda. A small piece of white, soft cheese was wrapped up in a bit of wax paper on the middle shelf. And on the bottom shelf was a large plate, in which there was an item that made my eyes widen. A birthday cake for Violet.

"I forgot," Violet said, tears ran down her face.

"I'm sorry," I said as Klaus took the cake out.

The cake was similar to the coconut cream cake, like Dr. Montgomery used to make, and the two siblings wondered if Sunny, even as a baby, had noticed enough about cooking to help Phil concoct such a dessert. The cake was heavily frosted, with bits of coconut mixed into the thick, creamy frosting, and spelled out in blue frosting on the top, in Phil's perky, optimistic handwriting, were three words.

"Violet's Fifteenth Date," Klaus said numbly. "That's what the balloons were for. I knew Sunny was preparing something."

"It was my fifteenth birthday," Violet said. "I turned fifteen sometime when we were in the grotto, and I forgot all about it."

"Sunny didn't forget," Klaus said. "She said she was planning a surprise, remember? We were going to return from our mission in the cave, and celebrate your birthday."

Violet sunk to the floor, resting her head against Sunny's diving helmet. "What are we going to do?" she sobbed. "We can't lose Sunny. We can't lose her!"

"There has to be something we can use to save her," I said.

"There has to be something we can use," Klaus said, "as a substitute for horseradish. What could it be?"

"I don't know!" Violet cried. "I don't know anything about cooking!"

"Neither do I!" Klaus said, crying as hard as his sister. "Sunny's the one who knows!"

I watched them weep as tears poured down my face. I felt terribly guilty because I knew it was my fault. If only I had been more careful, Count Olaf might never have seen through the Baudelaires disguises in the hinterlands. Maybe they would have reached the headquarters of V.F.D. before it was burned down and uncovered its secrets. They never would have lost Quigley and Melissa to the Stricken Stream and they certainly wouldn't be here right now. Sunny wouldn't be dying before my eyes. The way I had let Jacques die when I should have done more to save him.

"You can't give up," I said, "I don't want to lose another person I love. And neither do you. We have to keep looking."

Violet and Klaus looked at me and then at one another. They nodded. Then, they opened the tiny door of Sunnv's helmet and dragged her out, quickly shutting the door behind her so the fungus would not spread. She didn't look too bad until she opened her mouth and I could see the dark stalks and caps inside. Wheezing horribly, Sunny reached out her tiny arms to Violet and Klaus. She grabbed their hands. I knew without her speaking, that she was pleading with them to help her.

"Sunny," Violet said, "we've researched an antidote. Only horseradish can save you. But there's no horseradish in the kitchen."

"Sunny," Klaus said, "is there a culinary equivalent of horseradish?"

Sunny opened her mouth as if trying to say something, but all I heard was the whistling of air through the mushrooms. Her tiny hands curled into fists, and her body twisted back and forth in pain and fear. At last she managed to utter a single word that might just save her life.

"Wasabi," Sunny said in a hoarse, choked whisper.

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><p><strong>I'll try and get the next chapters done and posted by the weekend! <strong>

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	36. Traitor

**Here's the next chapter as promised! :) ENJOY!**

**R&R please!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Traitor<strong>

Violet quickly opened the tin of wasabi and fed it to Sunny. She gasped as it touched her tongue, the mushrooms shuddering and shrinking back. In just a few minutes the fungus had withered away entirely and Sunny began to cough rather than wheeze. At last, she was taking deep breaths and regained her ability to breathe.

Sunny still gripped the hands of her siblings and blinked back tears, however, I could see that she certainly wouldn't perish.

"It's working," Violet said. "Sunny's breathing is getting stronger."

"Yes," Klaus said. "We've turned the tables on that ghastly fungus."

"Thank goodness," I said in relief.

"Water," Sunny said. Klaus rose from the floor to get a glass of water for Sunny who sat up weakly to drink heavily from the glass. When she was done she hugged Violet and Klaus. She looked at me and patted my hand gently, but I could see even Sunny wasn't happy with me. "Thank you," she said. "Saved me."

"You saved yourself," Violet reminded her. "We had the wasabi this whole time, but we didn't think of giving it to you until you told us."

Sunny coughed again. "Tuckered," she murmured as she lay back on the floor.

"I'm not surprised you're exhausted," Violet said. "You've been through quite an ordeal. Shall we carry you to the barracks so you can rest?"

"Rest here," Sunny said, lying in a ball at in front of the stove.

"Will you really be comfortable on the kitchen floor?" Klaus asked.

Sunny opened a tired eye, giving her brother and sister a smile. "Near you," she said.

"All right, Sunny," Violet said. She got a dish towel from the counter and folded it so Sunny could use it as a pillow.

"We'll be in the Main Hall if you need us," Violet said.

"What next?" she murmured.

"Shh," Klaus said, covering her with another dishtowel. "Don't worry, Sunny. We'll figure out what to do next."

Violet and Klaus crept quietly out of the kitchen with the wasabi. I frowned at the floor and followed, feeling like a lost puppy that nobody wanted.

"Do you think she'll be all right?" Violet asked.

"I'm sure she will," Klaus said. "After a nap she'll be as good as new. But we should eat some of that wasabi ourselves. When we opened the diving helmet, we were exposed to the Medusoid Mycelium, and we'll need all of our strength to get away from Olaf."

Violet nodded in agreement and ate some of the wasabi, shuddering at the bitter taste.

"Here," Violet said, handing it to Klaus. "We'd better make sure that diving helmet stays closed until we get our hands on some horseradish and destroy that fungus for good."

Klaus nodded in approval and closed his eyes as he tasted the wasabi. Klaus glanced at me and I looked up in surprise, wondering if he had forgiven me at last. But he only held out the container to me. I took it, feeling odd and ate the last spoonful. It tasted bitter on my tongue and I grimaced.

"If we ever invent that food code we talked about with Fiona," Klaus said, "the word 'wasabi' should mean 'powerful.' No wonder this cured our sister."

"But now that we've cured her," Violet said, "what next?"

"We have to get away from here," I said.

"Not without Fiona," Klaus said, "we promised to bring her with us. She should be on her way with the hook-handed man."

"What do should we do while we wait?" Violet asked.

"Deal with Olaf," Klaus said firmly. "He said he has everything he needs to defeat V.F.D. forever—except the sugar bowl."

"You're right," Violet said. "We have to turn the tables on him, and find it before he does."

"But we don't know where it is," Klaus said. "Someone must have taken it from the Gorgonian Grotto."

"What's the Gorgonian Grotto?" I asked. "Why was the sugar bowl there?"

"It's an underwater cave." Violet said, "We were exploring hoping to find the sugar bowl. Klaus thought the tide carried it there. He was probably correct but we couldn't find it. I wonder—"

Violet was interrupted by a strange noise, a sort of whir followed by other beeps and noises. A panel in the wall flashed a green light, and something flat and white slid out of a tiny slit in the panel.

"It's paper," Klaus said.

"It's more than paper," Violet said.

She walked over to the where the sheet of paper was coming out of and took it in her hands.

"This is the telegram device. We must be receiving—"

"A Volunteer Factual Dispatch," Klaus finished. Violet nodded, and her eyes searched the paper. They froze and her mouth fell open.

"It's from Quigley Quagmire," she said quietly.

My eyes widened in surprise.

"What does he say?" I asked.

Violet beamed at the telegram and began to read it aloud:

"'It is my understanding that you have three additional volunteers on board STOP,'" she read, "'We are in desperate need of their services for a most urgent matter STOP. Please deliver them Tuesday to the location indicated in the rhymes below STOP.' "

She scanned the paper and frowned thoughtfully. "Then there are two poems," she said. "One by Lewis Carroll and the other by T. S. Eliot."

"Lewis Carroll?" I asked. "Isn't he the person who wrote _Alice and Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_?"

"Yes that's right," Klaus said and he looked terribly sad. I knew he must be thinking about how we had performed in that play when we stayed at the New York boarding school. He sighed and pulled out his commonplace book. He turned to a page.

"Verse Fluctuation Declaration," he said. "That's the code we learned in the grotto. Quigley must have changed some of the words in the poems, so no one else would know where we're supposed to meet him. Let's see if we can recognize the changes."

Violet nodded.

"_'O Oysters, come and walk with us!'_

_The Walrus did beseech._

_'A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,_

_Along the movie theater.'_"

"That certainly can't be right," Violet said.

"There were no movie theaters when Lewis Carroll was alive," Klaus said. "But what are the real words to the poem?"

"I don't know," Violet said. "I've always found Lewis Carroll too whimsical for my taste. No offense."

"I like him," Klaus said, "but I haven't memorized his poems."

"Violet, Klaus," I said, trying to get their attention.

"If this has to do with what happened at the carnival," Klaus said, "I told you we'd talk about it later." I frowned. "Read the other one, Violet. Maybe that will help."

Violet nodded, and read aloud:

_"At the pink hour when the eyes and back,_

_Turn upward from the desk, when the human_

_engine waits_

_Like a pony throbbing party…"_

Violet trailed off and looked at Klaus in confusion. "That's all," she said. "The poem stops there."

Klaus frowned. "There's nothing else in the telegram?"

"Only a few letters at the very bottom," she said. " 'CC: J.S.' What does that mean?"

" 'CC' means that Quigley sent a copy of this message to someone else," Klaus said, "and 'J.S.' are the initials of the person."

"Those mysterious initials again," Violet said. "It can't be Jacques Snicket, because he's dead. But who else could it be?"

"We can't worry about that now," Klaus said. "We have to figure out what words have been substituted in these poems."

"How can we do that?" Violet asked.

"I don't know," Klaus said. "Why would Quigley think we would have memorized these poems?"

"He wouldn't think that," Violet said. "He knows us. But the telegram was addressed to the _Queequeg_. He knew that someone on board could decode the poetry."

"But who?" Klaus asked. "Not Fiona – she's a mycologist. An optimist like Phil isn't likely to be familiar with T. S. Eliot. And it's hard to imagine Captain Widdershins having a serious interest in poetry."

"Um…guys," I tried again, but they weren't paying attention.

"Not anymore," Violet said thoughtfully. "But Fiona's brother said he and the captain used to study poetry together."

"That's true," Klaus said. "He said they used to read to one another in the Main Hall." He went over to the sideboard where there were books kept. "But there's no poetry here – just Fiona's mycological library."

"Captain Widdershins wouldn't keep poetry books out front like that," Violet said. "He would have kept them secret."

"Just like he kept the secret of what happened to Fiona's brother," Klaus said. "He thought there were secrets too terrible for young people to know," Violet said, "but now we need to know them."

Klaus paused and looked at Violet. "There's something I never told you," he said. "Remember when our parents were so angry over the spoiled atlas?"

"We talked about that in the grotto," Violet said. "The rain spoiled it when we left the library window open."

"I don't think that's the only reason they were mad," Klaus said. "I took that atlas down from the top shelf—one I could only reach by putting the stepladder on top of the chair. They didn't think I could reach that shelf."

"Why would that make them angry?" Violet asked.

Klaus stared at the floor. I felt as if I should try and comfort him, though I wasn't sure if he would want me to do that. "That's where they kept books they didn't want us to find," he said. "I was interested in the atlas, but when I removed it from the shelf there was a whole row of other books."

"What kind of books?" Violet asked.

"I didn't get a good look at them," Klaus said. "There were a few books about war, and I think a few romances. I was too interested in the atlas to investigate any further, but I remember thinking it was strange that our parents had hidden those books. That's why they were so angry, I think—when they saw the atlas on the window seat, they knew I'd discovered their secret."

"Did you ever look at them again?" Violet said.

"I didn't have a chance," Klaus said. "They moved them to another hiding place, and I never saw them again."

"Maybe our parents were going to tell us what was in those books when we were older," Violet said.

"Maybe," Klaus agreed. "But we'll never know. We lost them in the fire."

They were quiet for a moment. I wondered if I should take the chance and speak up about what I knew. Before I could speak, they stepped onto the wooden table to reach the highest cabinet. I lingered below and waited for them to find the right poetry book. "Elizabeth Bishop," Violet said, "Charles Simic, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Franz Wright, Daphne Gottlieb – there's all sorts of poetry here."

"Why don't you read T.S. Eliot," Klaus told her, handing her the heavy volume containing the T.S. Eliot poetry, "and I'll tackle Lewis Carroll. If we read quickly we should be able to find the real poems and decode the message."

"I'm not sure that will be necessary," I said.

"Wait," Violet said, suddenly, "I found something else," She passed a crumpled up piece of paper in a square shape to Klaus. I climbed up on the table so I could see.

"Look." Klaus said. The piece of paper was a photo of four people, who looked very much like a family. A large man with a long mustache, curved up at the ends stood in the center and he had his arm draped around the shoulders of the hook-handed man though his hands were intact and he looked like a teenager. He also had an arm around the older man's shoulder and was pointing at whoever was taking the picture. A woman stood on the older man's other side; laughing and holding a baby with a small pair of triangular shaped glasses.

"That must be Fiona's mother," Klaus said, as he gestured to the woman who was laughing in the picture.

"Look," Violet said, pointing to the background. "This was taken on board theQueequeg . That's the edge of the plaque with the captain's personal philosophy – 'He who hesitates is lost.' "

"The whole family is lost, almost," Klaus said quietly. "Fiona's mother is dead. Her brother joined Count Olaf's troupe. And who knows where her stepfather is?"

"Kind of like my family," I said softly.

Klaus glanced at me, his eyes sad again. It was only for an instant and then he looked away.

Klaus opened his commonplace book to the first page in which the photograph of the Baudelaire's parents, Jacques Snicket, and a person facing away from the camera, who I had the suspicion was actually Monty Kensicle or Lemony Snicket. I could tell he was rereading that sentence over again: "Because of the evidence discussed on page nine," it read, "experts now suspect that there may in fact be one survivor of the fire, but the survivor's whereabouts are unknown."

For quite some time, the Baudelaires had thought this meant one of their parents was alive after all, but now they were almost certain it meant no such thing. Violet and Klaus looked from one photograph to the other, imagining a time when no one in the pictures was lost, and everyone was happy.

"Maybe we shouldn't be hesitating here," Klaus said. "Maybe we should be rescuing our captain, instead of reading books of poetry and looking at old photographs. I don't want to lose Fiona."

"Fiona's safe with her brother," Violet said, "and I'm sure she'll join us when she can. We need to decode this message, or we might lose everything. In this case, he or she who doesn't hesitate is lost."

"What if we decode the message before Fiona arrives?" Klaus asked. "Do we wait for her to join us?"

"We wouldn't have to," Violet said. "The four of us could properly operate this submarine by ourselves. All we'd need to do is repair the porthole, and we could probably steer the _Queequeg_ out of the Carmelita "

"We can't abandon her here," Klaus said. "She wouldn't abandon us."

"Are you sure?" Violet asked.

Klaus sighed, and looked at the photograph again. "No," he said. "Let's get to work."

"I think I know something that might help you," I pressed.

"What is it, Jane?" Violet asked.

"Well, you remember how Klaus and I performed in that play, _Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll?" I began.

"Yes," Violet said. Klaus nodded.

"Well, I was so anxious about being the Red Queen and I wasn't completely confident that I could really pull it off at first," I said. I left out the fact that I had been handed the role as apart of Alfonso's offer. I shuddered as I was reminded of that dreadful time. "So to calm myself, I decided to do what Klaus usually does. I did some research." A hint of a smile played on the corners of Klaus' mouth. "I found a copy of the book _Through the Looking Glass_ and decided to read some of it. I came across the poem _The Walrus and the Carpenter,_ and I was so interested, that I decided to memorize it. At the time, I thought it was a bit ridiculous to do such a thing, but it doesn't feel like that now."

Klaus was still trying to cover up his smile.

"Do you still remember the poem?" Violet asked.

I nodded. "The stanza we're looking at goes:

"_'O Oysters, come and walk with us!'_

_The Walrus did beseech._

_'A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,_

_Along the briny beach.'_"

"Quigley wants us to meet him tomorrow," Klaus said, "at Briny Beach."

"Briny Beach," Violet repeated quietly. They were both silent and I realized they must be thinking about how their misery had begun on that beach.

"How can we get to Briny Beach?" Klaus asked.

"I don't know," I said, "maybe the other poem will tell us."

"Well, let's get to work," Violet said and we did just that. We each took a poetry book and began searching for the right poem by T.S. Eliot. I found myself enjoying reading the poetry, it made me feel a sense of power from the moving words within each poem. However, no poem could take away the fact that the Baudelaire's were still angry with me. It was unsettling and I hope I could get them to hear me out. Maybe if they understood the truth, they would understand why I did the things I did. I suppose that was the hardest part, trying to get the Baudelaires to understand it from my side. What if they didn't believe me? What if they never stopped hating me? I couldn't fathom losing them for forever. I couldn't lose the Baudelaires. They were all I had left in this world. Without them, I had nothing and then what Olaf said would come true. I didn't want him to be right. I didn't want to be alone. I had to make them understand. Maybe what I truly needed, was to tell Klaus how I felt about him. If he knew, he could never believe that I told Olaf that they were in disguise.

"Snack!" announced an eager voice, and I looked up to see Sunny entering carrying a small plate.

"Sunny!" Violet cried. "We thought you were asleep."

"Rekoop," Sunny said, meaning, "I had a brief nap, and when I woke up I felt well enough to cook something."

"I am a bit hungry," Klaus admitted. "What did you make us?"

"Amuse bouche," Sunny said, meaning, "Tiny water chestnut sandwiches, with a spread of cheese and sesame seeds."

"They're quite tasty," Violet said.

We split the sandwiches, which were delicious, and Violet explained what we had happened while Sunny was inside her helmet. Violet explained from encountering Count Olaf through us decoding the poems. Violet also mentioned how the hook-handed man wanted to join us on the _Queequeg_.

"Perifido," Sunny said, which meant, "It would be foolish to trust one of Olaf's henchmen."

"We don't trust him," Klaus said. "Not really. But Fiona trusts him, and we trust Fiona." "Volatile," Sunny said.

"Yes," Violet admitted, "but we don't have much choice. We're in the middle of the ocean."

"I honestly don't think we should," I said, "it's much too dangerous."

Klaus frowned at me. "You're not so different, Jane," he said, "but we're still bringing _you_ along."

"Klaus, please don't—" I began.

"Stop it, Jane," Klaus said, rising from his seat, "haven't you done enough already? How could you do that to us, Jane? I can't believe that you would tell Olaf about us being in disguise."

"Klaus, please," I said, "let me explain. I—"

"There's nothing to _explain_, Jane," Klaus retorted. "_You _betrayed us. And then you decided to push Olivia into that pit of lions. To _kill_ her. She was our _friend_ Jane and she was trying to help us find our parents."

"Well, I don't think that was on her mind when she told Olaf about you three," I said, bitterly, "Maybe she wasn't first but even if Olaf hadn't found out because of me, Madame Lulu would have told him anyways."

"I don't know what to believe," Klaus said. "And it doesn't matter. Sure, maybe we couldn't fully trust Olivia, but I did trust you. And you of all people became a traitor.

"You have to believe _me_, Klaus," I said, getting to my feet, "I'm your friend and I care about all three of you. I'd die before I let anything happen to any one of you."

Klaus shook his head. "That doesn't change what you did," Klaus said, "You're right Jane, you are our friend. You _were_. But clearly you don't know what it means to be a friend. And _you_ decided to break that friendship when you stabbed us in the back! Fiona was right about you!"

"_What?_" I said, confused and irritated. What had _Fiona_ said about _me_? I didn't even _know _her. "She _barely_ knows me.

"Well, right now it feels like I barely know _you_," Klaus said.

"What do you want from me Klaus?" I cried. "Do you want me to tell you that everything that happened was because I wanted to _hurt_ you? Maybe if you would just listen, maybe you could see it my way."

"Fine," Klaus said, and crossed his arms firmly. "Explain it then. How did Olaf find out?"

I sighed. "He stole my notebook," I said, "The place where I had written down nearly everything that has ever happened to us. And he came across the part I had written about you hiding in the trunk of his car and disguising as freaks." I blinked as tears came to my eyes as I recalled how dreadful I felt when I knew it was my fault. "So he found out. That's why you and Violet were picked to be the freaks who would jump into the pit that day. He threatened to expose your true identities if I ruined the plan. If the lions didn't get you, the crowd would have."

"Olaf knew if we jumped into the pit, then, he could get away with Sunny," Violet said, nodding.

"Anyways, I'm sorry that it happened," I said, "but it was in no way intentional. If I could, I would go back in time and fix my mistakes, but I can't. I'm sorry. But you see, Klaus? You know I'd never do that to you. I would _never_ tell Olaf like that. That's not who I am. You know me."

"Alright fine Jane," Klaus said. "I believe that you didn't do that on purpose…But that you helped Esmé with her scheme by pushing Madame Lulu into the lion pit."

"You've done bad things too," I said, quietly, "you burnt down the carnival. But I'm willing to forgive you Klaus. I know that's not who you are."

"You're right," Klaus said, "I _did_ help burn it down with Violet. I've done other things that I wish I could take back. But _murder,_ Jane? How could you, Jane? Do you realize that my parents were murdered? Do you realize that Jacques Snicket was murdered? I can't trust someone who would do something as terrible as…Count Olaf. It's _volatile_."

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice quivering as tears streamed down my face.

"Sorry isn't going to change anything," Klaus said sadly, "It won't raise the dead." He paused, his eyebrows furrowing, a pain echoing deep in his brown eyes—a pain that I had caused. "I thought I did know you, Jane." I could see that his eyes were glistening with tears. "But lately you've changed. You're a _murderer_. And I _hate_ you for that."

I was frozen to the spot, but nothing could numb the horrible pain that shot through my heart at his words. He _hated_ me? He really thought I was a murderer? Suddenly, I felt as if the room was spinning and I was utterly speechless.

"Klaus," I half-choked. I couldn't think of anything to say. Of course, I could have said a lot of things. I could have explained to him that I was not a murderer and that I would never put myself in that situation ever again. You would think, having documented our lives through writing in my notebook, that I would have known the right words to say in this moment and avoided the pain of regret in the future. But there were only three words that came to mind. "I lov—"

"Blah blah blah ha ha ha!" interrupted a cruel, mocking voice. "Ha blah ha blah ha blah! Tee hee snaggle sniggle tee hee hee! Hubba hubba giggle diddle denouement!"

I didn't need to look up to know Count Olaf was stepping onto the wooden table followed by Esmé and Carmelita Spats. My eyes were on Klaus, the only person who made me feel as though someone did care about what happened to me. Klaus didn't look away either, his eyebrows furrowed as he gazed into my eyes as though he were trying to make a decision. In any event, we were locked in this moment as if we were a tableau surrounded by chaos.

"I'm happier than a pig eating bacon!" Count Olaf cried. "I'm tickled pinker than a sunburned Caucasian! I'm in higher spirits than a brand-new graveyard! I'm so happy-go-lucky that lucky and happy people are going to beat me with sticks out of pure, unbridled jealousy! Ha ha jicama! When I stopped by the brig to see how my associate was progressing, and found that you orphans had flown the coop, I was afraid you were escaping, or sabotaging my submarine, or even sending a telegram asking for help! But I should have known you were too dim-witted to do anything useful! Look at yourselves, orphans, snacking and reading poetry, while the powerful and good-looking people of the world cackle in triumph! Cackle cackle cutthroat!"

"In just a few minutes," Esme boasted, "we will arrive at the Hotel Denouement, thanks to our bratty rowing crew. Tee hee triumphant! V.F.D.'s last safe place will soon be in ashes—just like your home, Baudelaires!"

"I'm going to do a special tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian dance recital," Carmelita bragged, "on the graves of all those volunteers!" Carmelita did a leap onto the wooden table beside Olaf to perform a victory dance. "C is for 'cute!', " Carmelita sang, "A is for 'adorable'! R is for 'ravishing'! M is for 'gor–' "

"Now, now, Carmelita," Count Olaf said, giving Carmelita an edgy smile. "Why don't you save your dance recital for later? I'll buy you all the dance costumes in the world. With V.F.D. out of the way, all the fortunes of the world can be mine—the Baudelaire fortune, the Murray fortune, the Quagmire fortune, the Widdershins fortune, the Sampson fortune, the—"

Suddenly, Klaus broke his gaze with a finality that was clearly expressed in his eyes. As for me, my gaze never left his face, feeling a horror that I might lose him. "Where is Fiona?" Klaus asked, interrupting Count Olaf. "What have you done with her? If you've hurt her—"

"Hurt her?" Count Olaf asked, with shiny eyes. "Hurt Triangle Eyes? Why would I hurt a clever girl like that? Tee hee troupe member!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Count Olaf gesture histrionically to whoever was behind them. Esmé clapped her tentacles together while two people entered. True to Olaf's word, there was hook-handed man, who seemed to have morphed back into a wretched person, and Fiona.

"No," Klaus said quietly, in horror.

"No," Violet said firmly, and glanced at Klaus.

"No!" Sunny said heatedly, and bared her teeth at Fiona.

"Yes," Fiona said quietly.

I couldn't say I wasn't surprised that she had joined with Olaf. However, what shocked me the most, was realizing how much we really did have in common. Besides having both been abandoned by the majority of our families, the portrait of Edgar Guest was printed on both of our diving suits and we had both betrayed the Baudelaires.

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**The next chapter will be posted soon!**


	37. Strangers

**It's the final chapter of TGG! ENJOY!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: Strangers<strong>

_**Klaus Baudelaire**_

It was horrible to contemplate my own life as Fiona betrayed us the way Jane had, as well as many of our former companions. Two people that I cared for very much had broken our trust. I could see Jane out of the corner of my eye. She seemed to be frozen almost, her eyes still locked on the place where I had stood. I knew she was hurt and I was glad. At least now she'd understand how much she had hurt me. I could barely look at her right now. It was bad enough that Fiona joined Olaf's side. Jane had done something so terrible. It broke my heart because I really did like her. But not after this.

"Tell them, Triangle Eyes," Count Olaf said with a wicked smile. "Tell the Baudelaires that you've joined up with me."

"It's true," Fiona said, though her eyes glanced sadly at the floor. "Count Olaf said that if I helped him destroy the last safe place, he'd help me find my stepfather."

"But Count Olaf and your stepfather are enemies!" Violet cried. "They're on opposite sides of the schism."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Esme Squalor said, as she stepped through the broken porthole. "After all, Captain Widdershins abandoned you. Maybe he's decided volunteers are out—and we're in."

"My brother, my stepfather, and I could be together again," Fiona said softly. "Don't you understand, Baudelaires?"

"Of course they don't understand!" Count Olaf cried. "Ha ha half-wits! Those brats spend their lives reading books instead of chasing after fortunes! I should have guessed Blondie would be with them! Now, let's remove all the valuables from the _Queequeg_ and we'll lock the orphans up in the brig!"

"You won't get away from us this time!" the hook-handed man said, whirling the noodle in the air.

"We didn't get away from you last time," I said. "You helped us sneak over here, to save Sunny. You said you wanted to come with us when we escaped in the _Queequeg _and joined V.F.D. at the last safe place."

"V.F.D.," the hook-handed man sneered. He flicked one of his hooks scornfully and popped one of the balloons. "All those silly volunteers with their precious libraries and complicated codes—they're fools, every last one of them. I don't want to sit around reading idiotic books! He who hesitates is lost!"

"Or she," Fiona said. "Aye!"

"Yes," Count Olaf said, "let's not hesitate a moment longer, Hooky. Let's tour this submarine and steal anything we want!"

"I want to come, too!" Esme said. "I need a new fashionable outfit!"

"Of course, boss," the hook-handed man said, going over to the door of the Main Hall. "Follow me."

"No, you follow me!" Count Olaf said, pushing ahead of him. "I'm in charge!"

"But Countie," Carmelita whined, hopping off the table and doing an awkward spin. "I want to go first because I'm a tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian!"

"Of course you get to go first, precious," Esme said. "You get whatever your adorable little heart desires, right Olaf?"

"I guess so," Olaf muttered.

"And tell Triangle Eyes to stay here and guard the orphans," Carmelita said. "I don't want her to take all the good stuff for herself."

"Guard the orphans, Triangle Eyes," Count Olaf said. "Although I don't think you orphans really need to be guarded. After all, there's nowhere for you to go! Tee hee traction!"

"Giggle giggle gaudy!" Carmelita cried, leading the way out of the Main Hall.

"Ha ha hair trigger!" Esme screamed, as she followed.

"Tee hee tonsillectomy!" Count Olaf shrieked, walking behind his girlfriend.

"I also find this amusing!" the hook-handed man yelled, slamming the door behind him. We were left alone with Fiona and Jane.

"Traitor," Sunny said.

"Sunny's right," Violet said. "Don't do this, Fiona. There's still time to change your mind, and stay on the noble side of the schism."

"We received a Volunteer Factual Dispatch," I said, showing her the telegram. " V.F.D. is in desperate need of our services for a most urgent matter. We're meeting the volunteers at Briny Beach. You could come with us, Fiona."

"Greenhut!" Sunny cried. She meant something like, "You could be of enormous help," "You wouldn't abandon your sister," Fiona said before any of us could translate. "Aye! You risked your lives to save Sunny. How can you ask me to abandon my brother?"

"Your brother is a wicked person," Violet said.

"People aren't either wicked or noble," Fiona said. "They're like chef's salads."

I glanced at Jane briefly, understanding how true that was. I thought Jane was noble but she had done something so villainous. It didn't make sense to me.

I picked up picture of Fiona's family from the table to give it to Fiona. "This doesn't look like a chef's salad to me," he said. "It looks like a family. Is this what your family would have you do, Fiona? Send three children to the brig, while you help a villain in his treacherous schemes?"

Fiona glanced at the photo, and tears glistened in her eyes. She blinked.

"My family is lost," she said. "Aye! My mother is dead. Aye! My father moved away. Aye! My stepfather has abandoned me. Aye! My brother may not be as wonderful as you Baudelaires, but he is the only family I have. Aye! I'm staying with him. Aye!"

"Stay with him if you must," Violet said, "but let us go."

"Rendezvous," Sunny said.

"Take us to Briny Beach," Klaus translated. "We might be on opposite sides of the schism, Fiona, but that doesn't mean we can't help one another."

Fiona sighed, glancing from us to the photo. "I could turn my back," she said, "instead of guarding you."

"And we could take the _Queequeg_," Violet said, "and escape." Fiona frowned, and put down the picture.

"If I let you go to Briny Beach," she said, "what will you do for me?"

"I'll teach you how to repair submarines," Violet said, pointing out the telegram machine. "You could restore the _Queequeg_ to its former glory."

"I don't need the _Queequeg_ anymore," Fiona said. "Aye! I'm part of the crew of the _Carmelita_."

"I'll give you my commonplace book," Klaus said and held out his commonplace book. "It's full of important secrets."

"Count Olaf knows more secrets than you'll ever learn," Fiona replied.

"Mmph!" I heard Sunny say and realized that she had slipped away to the kitchen while we weren't looking. She was back with the poisoned helmet.

"Don't touch that, Sunny!" Violet cried. "There's a very dangerous fungus in there, and we don't have any more antidote!"

"Mycolo," Sunny said, and put the helmet at Fiona's feet.

"Sunny's right," I said, shuddering as I glanced at the helmet. "Inside that helmet is the bugaboo of the mycological pantheon—the Medusoid Mycelium."

"I thought you destroyed it," Fiona said.

"No," Violet said. "The Medusoid Mycelium grows best in an enclosed space. You said that the poison of a deadly fungus can be the source of some wonderful medicines. This is a very valuable specimen for a mycologist like yourself."

"That's true," Fiona confessed, and looked at the helmet.

As I stared at the helmet, I thought of our journey into the grotto and being trapped by the Medusoid Mycellium. I recalled how horrified we had been when we discovered the Medusoid Mycellium inside Sunny's helmet and the shock when we came back to an abandoned submarine. I remembered being captured by the _Carmelita_ and meeting our worst enemy inside.

"We're back!" Count Olaf announced, bursting into the room along with his associates. Esmé and Carmelita were looking into a small, shiny box. The hook-handed man was carrying a bunch of uniforms and diving helmets. "There wasn't much to steal, I'm afraid—this submarine is not quite up to its former glory. Still, I found a small jewelry box hidden in the barracks, with a few valuable items."

"I think the ruby ring is very in," Esmé purred. "It would look wonderful with my flame-imitating dress."

"That was my mother's," Fiona said quietly.

"She would have wanted me to have it," Esme said quickly. "We were close friends at school."

"I want the necklace!" Carmelita demanded. "It goes perfectly with my veterinarian stethoscope! Give it to me, Countie!"

"I wish we had those carnival freaks with us," the hook-handed man said. "They could help carry some of these uniforms."

"We'll see them at the Hotel Denouement," said Count Olaf, "along with the rest of my comrades. Well, let's get out of here! We have lots to do before we arrive! Triangle Eyes, take the orphans to the brig! Ha ha hula dance!"

Count Olaf began to hum a strange tune and did his own victory dance that caused him to stumble over the diving helmet on the floor.

Carmelita giggled maliciously as Olaf rubbed his tattooed ankle. "Ha, ha Countie!" cried Carmelita. "My dance recital was better than yours!"

"Get this hat out of here, Triangle Eyes," Count Olaf snarled. He picked up the helmet and started to give it to Fiona, but the hook-handed man intercepted him.

"I think you'll want that helmet for yourself, boss," the henchman said. "I prefer a smaller, lighter hat," Count Olaf said, "but I appreciate the gesture."

"What my brother means," Fiona explained, "is that inside this helmet is the Medusoid Mycelium."

We gasped and I looked at my siblings in horror. Even Jane seemed frightened as Count Olaf looked into the window of the helmet with eyes wide. "The Medusoid Mycelium," he murmured, and ran his tongue thoughtfully along his teeth. "Could it be?"

"Impossible," Esmé Squalor said. "That fungus was destroyed long ago."

"They brought it with them," the hook-handed man said. "That's why the baby was so sick."

"This is marvelous," Olaf said in a raspy voice. "As soon as you Baudelaires and Blondie are all in the brig, I'm going to open this helmet and toss it inside! You'll suffer as I've always wanted you to suffer."

"That's not what we should do!" Fiona cried. "That's a very valuable specimen!"

Esmé stepped forward drapping a tentacle around Count Olaf's neck. "Triangle Eyes is right," she said. "You don't want to waste the fungus on the orphans. Besides, you need one of them alive to get the fortune."

"That's true," Olaf agreed, "but the idea of those orphans not being able to breathe is awfully attractive."

"But think of the fortunes we can steal!" Esmé said. "Think of the people we can boss around! With the Medusoid Mycelium in our grasp, who can stop us now?"

"No one!" Count Olaf howled. "Ha hunan chicken! Ha ha hamantaschen! Ha ha hors d'oeuvres! Ha ha h—"

Before Count Olaf could utter another word, he stopped and gestured at the sonar detector in which the letter Q of the _Queequeg_ was in the same spot as the eye that represented the _Carmelita_. However, I could see a third shape, the one shaped like an enormous question mark.

"What's that cakesniffing shape?" asked Carmelita Spats. "It looks like a big comma." "Shh!" Count Olaf hissed, covering Carmelita's mouth. "Silence, everyone!"

"We have to get out of here," Esme murmured. "This octopus is no match for that thing."

"You're right," Olaf muttered. "Esme, go whip our rowers so they'll go faster! Hooky, store those uniforms! Triangle Eyes, take the orphans to the brig!"

"What about me?" Carmelita asked. "I'm the cutest, so I should get to do something."

"I guess you'd better come with me," Count Olaf said wearily. "But no tap-dancing! We don't want to show up on their sonar! In fact, Blondie, you're coming with me too. I want a word with you before I toss you into the brig."

"Ta ta, cakesniffers!" Carmelita said, and waved her pink wand at us.

"You're so stylish, darling," Esme said. "It's like I always say: You can't be too rich or too in!" Esmé and Carmelita exited the Queequeg followed by the hook-handed man who waved awkwardly at us.

Count Olaf paused before he exited and drew his long, sharp sword to aim it at us. "Your luck is over at last," he said, in a terrible voice. "For far too long, you keep defeating my plans and escaping from my clutches—a happy cycle for you orphans and an unprofitable one for me. But now the tables have turned, Baudelaires. You've finally run out of places to run. And as soon as we get away from that—" he pointed at the sonar screen and raised his eyebrow menacingly, "you'll see that this cycle has finally been broken. You should have given up a long time ago, orphans. I triumphed the moment you lost your family."

"We didn't lose our family," Violet said. "Only our parents."

That wasn't completely true. It felt as if we'd lost Jane and we used to consider her as one of us.

"You'll lose everything, orphans," Count Olaf replied. "Wait and see." He said no more as he leaped out of the porthole. "I said you're coming with me, Blondie. Hurry up!"

Jane glanced at me and I could see her eyes pleading with me to forgive her. But I couldn't. Nothing could erase what she did. Things could never be the same between us.

"I think you should go, Jane," I said, "in fact, I don't think we should be friends anymore. You're a stranger to me now."

"But Klaus—" Jane started, her mouth agape. A tear ran down her cheek.

"I said hurry up!" Olaf growled.

"Go," I said, blinking back the tears in my eyes.

Jane was frozen for a brief second. "I'm sorry," she whispered, brokenly. Then, at last, she turned and hurried out of the porthole to follow Count Olaf. She was gone.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Jamie Murray<strong>_

I followed Olaf out of the porthole, zombie-like. I felt like I was about to burst into tears at any moment. Everything was spiraling out of control and I didn't know what to do. I wish I had someone to go to for advice, but I had no one. The thought hit me like a knife had gone through my heart. I lost Violet and Sunny. And I lost Klaus. They were all I had and they hated me. No! That couldn't happen. I had to do something. I had to tell Klaus how I felt. Now.

I glanced back at the _Queequeg_, expecting the Baudelaires to be following at any moment.

Olaf pressed the eye button on the wall and the doors slid open. He walked through, not bothering to check to see that I was behind him. Now was my chance.

I dropped back and headed in the direction of the _Queequeg_. I could hear voices coming from inside the submarine and even though we were in a terrible situation, I kept thinking about Klaus. This was my chance to tell him what I felt about him all along.

I reached the submarine at last and peered through the porthole that Olaf had destroyed with his sword. The Baudelaires were talking to Fiona and they didn't see me. "I'll miss _you_," I heard Klaus saying. "Won't you come with us, Fiona? Now that Olaf has the Medusoid Mycelium, we'll need all the help we can get. Don't you want to finish the submarine's mission? We never found the sugar bowl. We never found your stepfather. We never even finished that code we were going to invent."

Fiona nodded, looking sad, and went over to the wooden table. She picked up the book, _Mushroom Minutiae_, and then faced Klaus.

"When you think of me," she said quietly, "think of a food you love very much." At that moment, she stepped forward and kissed Klaus on the mouth.

I moved back from the window to where I couldn't be seen. I watched as Fiona left the submarine, without noticing that I was standing nearby and followed after the villains. I stared after her until she disappeared through the door. I glanced through the portal hole again, and saw Klaus had his hand up to his lips where Fiona had kissed him. I found myself suddenly unable to breathe as if I were the one being poisoned by the Medusoid Mycellium. It felt as if my heart had shattered all over the floor. I watched, numbly as the submarine began to edge its way back through the tunnel from where it had come. In only a few minutes, the Baudelaires were gone for good, Klaus taking my heart with him. I felt as though I were going to burst into tears. But all I could do was stare blankly ahead.

"What do you think you're doing, Blondie?" Olaf growled viciously as he entered the room.

"They're gone," I managed in a toneless voice, so quiet that I wasn't sure if I even spoke it aloud.

Count Olaf's eyes rested on the spot where the Queequeg had been and widened. "Drat! They've escaped me again!" He hurried over to me. "You had something to do with this, didn't you?" he growled.

I didn't answer, staring blankly at the floor. Olaf growled and grabbed the back of my diving suit.

"Can you let me go?" I managed, so quiet I could hardly hear myself. "I want to be alone."

"I don't care," Olaf said, "you're coming with me and…Carmelita."

He began dragging me along with him as he headed to the control room. Carmelita met up with us in the rowing room where Count Olaf informed Esmé about the Baudelaires escaping again. After a few bitter words over his defeat, I was shoved in the direction of the control room while Carmelita skipped obnoxiously in front of me. The kids who were rowing looked up as I passed with sad expressions. I assumed they thought our plan was over with. Honestly, I didn't think I had the energy or the desire anymore.

I barely paid attention; in fact, I had to be practically dragged the whole way to the control room because my legs were nearly frozen. All I kept thinking about was Klaus and Fiona.

Olaf dragged me over to the spot I had sat in earlier and shoved me onto the seat. Carmelita sat down in another seat.

"What's with that look on your face, cakesniffer?" Carmelita asked, rudely. Olaf went to the controls and was staring at the sonar screen. The question mark was still there and he looked a little nervous. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I looked away from Carmelita, feeling as if I might cry. All of my hopes, all of my dreams were crushed. Suddenly, I couldn't stop myself and I felt more tears falling into my lap. Carmelita was staring at me and I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands hastily. I never let Carmelita see me cry. The last time she had caught me was when I was five because I missed my parents. She teased me about that for weeks, calling me a crybaby.

Carmelita sneered at me. "Look, Countie," she said, "Jane is crying." She snickered. "Janie the Cry Baby, Janie the Cry Baby." She singsonged the same thing she would say when we were younger.

"Quiet, Carmelita!" Olaf growled.

Carmelita pouted, sticking out her lower lip.

As I sat in the control room with the girl who had never ceased to make my life miserable and a horrible man who had done the same, I found myself unable to keep my tears in. Klaus hated me and it was all my fault. Now he was in love with Fiona. I ruined everything!

The question mark disappeared again and Count Olaf relaxed. Slowly, he turned to look at me, with a raised eyebrow.

I put my head in my hands. They couldn't see me cry. They would only make everything worse. I wished I could be with someone who wouldn't make me feel uncomfortable for crying. Someone like Klaus…But I couldn't have that anymore either.

"What are you so upset about?" Olaf said in a mocking tone. "Are you upset because your boyfriend left you behind?"

"N-no," I choked through my tears. It wasn't entirely true. In a way, he did leave me behind.

Count Olaf narrowed his eyes at me for a brief instant. Then, they were shining brightly.

"Carmelita," the villain said, "now that the danger has passed, you can go back to performing for the rowers."

"Yay!" Carmelita cried, and did a twirl as she began to exit. "Later cakesniffer!" she called to me as she left.

I scooted back in my chair, afraid of what was going to happen this time.

"Now, Jamie," Olaf said in a voice that attempted to be sickly sweet, making me shudder, "why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

He looked at me expectantly. I blinked back my tears, wishing I never let him see me crying. I looked down at my hands. "Nothing's wrong," I said, though tears stung my eyes.

"Of course there's something wrong," he said, "you're crying."

"Why do you care anyways?" I said, "Aren't you happy when I'm miserable?"

Count Olaf gave me a slow grin. "But this is different," he said, "this time it wasn't me who made you cry."

I looked down at the ground, sadly.

"I suppose it's because your friends escaped again," Olaf said when I didn't speak with an edge of irritation at the thought of the Baudelaires getting away. "But why should that make you sad? Is it because you've finally realized that they've abandoned you?"

"No, of course not," I said, though I wasn't so sure if that were true.

"So you let them escape!" he accused me. "You helped them do it!"

"Not this time," I said, quietly. "I was about to tell Klaus that…" I couldn't bring myself to say it aloud, "...but then something stopped me."

He looked surprised. "What was that?"

"I won't say," I said, biting my lip so I wouldn't cry again.

"Tell me this instant," he growled, aiming his sword at me.

I gulped and looked away as I said, "I-I saw something…Klaus…Fiona…um…well." I just couldn't bring myself to say what I knew was true aloud. It would just make it that much harder. I took a shaky breath and started again because Count Olaf was pointing his sword at me again. "As I got to the submarine, I…I…well…Fiona was…" I trailed off and felt more tears coming.

"What?" Olaf growled impatiently.

"I saw her kiss Klaus," I blurted and unleashed my tears. I began to sob brokenly.

"And you're jealous," Count Olaf said.

"Sure," I said, "but there's more to it than that." I let my head fall as I spoke. "Klaus hates me."

"And why is that?" Count Olaf asked.

"Well, your henchman told them about how you stole my notebook and then how I tried to push Madame Lulu into the lion pit," I said.

His eyes widened. "So you're the one who killed her," he said in a half growl, half amused voice. "I knew it was you. You killed baldy too."

"I didn't kill any of them," I said. "Klaus only thinks I killed Madame Lulu."

"Don't be ashamed, Jamie," Olaf said, "I don't judge you for being a murderer." I cringed at the thought. "In fact, I'm overjoyed. Now I know you're capable of being a perfect henchwoman."

"I don't care," I said as more tears streamed down my face, "Klaus said we shouldn't be friends anymore and then he kissed Fiona. And then they left."

"Poor Jane," Olaf said, "What is there to do? I can only think of one thing that might help. Revenge! That's right! My offer from before is still available, you know."

"No," I said with a shudder, "I won't do that…it's not as if he cheated on me or anything. It's my fault. I should have been more careful."

"I can't say that I disagree," Olaf said, "But you're also too blind to see what is true. Not only did bookworm kiss the mushroom bookworm but the Baudebrats left you behind altogether."

"N-no," I said, quietly. "T-that can't be true."

"How could you still care about them?" Olaf said. "When all those brats have done is abandon you just like everyone else you've ever known?"

I paused for a moment, feeling tears filling my eyes once more. "They haven't left me," I said quietly, more to myself than to Olaf. "They wouldn't abandon me. Would they?"

Olaf placed his hands on either side of my chair and leaned forward so that his face was level with mine. "They already have, Jamie," he said. "Why else are you still in my clutches? They've had plenty of opportunities to help you. Whether you believe it or not will not change the nature of truth. Afterall, bookworm hates you. Nothing you do will ever fix this. Trust me, Jane, I know all about _love._"

"Yeah, right," I said, "you wouldn't know what love was if it punched you square in the nose."

"Well, it seems I know a lot more than you do," Count Olaf said.

"They didn't abandon me!" I cried. "Stop this! The Baudelaires didn't abandon me!" But even as I spat those words at him in my anger, I knew it was the truth. Klaus would probably never forgive me.

"You can't deny it, Jane," Olaf said, "The Baudebrats aren't your family, little girl. Would family abandon each other?"

I averted my eyes so I wouldn't have to look him in the eyes anymore. I looked down at the floor instead. I kept trying to make up excuses for the Baudelaires. But maybe I was kidding myself.

"Everyone you've ever known has failed you," Olaf said, "But if you joined me, things would be different. You would have Esmé as your aunt. Don't you want Esmé to be proud of you? Don't you want her to appreciate you? You can have memories of your own that the Baudelaires would never be able to fulfill."

"It's not the same," I said, "I mean, all I really want is for someone…anyone to care about me. Even a little. Why should I believe that Esmé will care about me if I agree to be a villain?"

"Look at how she treats Carmelita," Olaf said, "and they're not even related. You're her niece."

"She does seem to care a little about my mother," I said, "they were close, right?"

Olaf frowned. "I told Esmé not to say anything," he grumbled. "What else did she tell you?"

"Nothing that I would label as important," I said, "at least not to you. Only simple things…like my mother's favorite flower. I like to know anything about my parents. However, even if Esmé cares a little, it shouldn't change anything. She's still not a very good person."

"But Esmé's the closest thing to family that you'll ever encounter," Count Olaf insisted, "You're not going to find it anywhere else. You can go around and claim people are your family but it'll never make it so. You'll always be alone. Just like you are now."

I grimaced. "I don't like being alone," I said quietly, "I've always been alone. It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair," Olaf said bitterly.

"I know life isn't fair!" I cried. "I don't need you to remind me of that! If life was fair, I'd be with my parents and none of _this_ would have ever happened…" I trailed off, miserably. "Fair would have been if Klaus felt the same way I do…I've dealt with unjustices my entire life," I said. "Since the day I realized I didn't have parents." I shuddered as more tears escaped. "You would think after suffering all those years, that the rest of my life might be a little brighter. But I've lost everything. Things that were never mine in the first place."

"And sometimes it makes you wonder why it happened to you," Olaf added, stealing more ideas from my notebook. He wore a strange expression on his face…of sympathy almost but perhaps I was just seeing things.

"I meant it when I said that the most people would ever do for you is make you suffer," Olaf said, "And now you're crying over the Baudelaires even. Of course, if you joined me, I wouldn't make you suffer anymore. Perhaps you could teach those noble volunteers about what misery really is. You can make them pay for all the times you suffered."

"I…I don't know," I said, softly.

"Even if you decided not to join me and you somehow escaped my clutches," Olaf said, "Where would you go?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "I-I…um…" I pursed my lips. "Okay so I wouldn't have anywhere to go."

"Exactly my point," Olaf said, "No one on this planet would care about a poor orphan. It's how the world works. The poor and helpless suffer while the rest turn a blind eye to it all. You're nothing to the people out there in this dreadful world."

I lowered my head and stared at my hands. Olaf put a scraggly hand on top of my head and I glanced up. "You see," he said, "you're all alone in this world and you've suffered a great deal, but you're not the only one. Like those freaks who joined my troupe recently. They were all alone and people made fun of them for things they had no control over. Then I came along so they decided to get revenge on all the people who had ever laughed at them. Now, they're not alone and helping me with my ultimate scheme. No one will ever laugh at those freaks again once they've seen how treacherous they can be."

"But it doesn't make any sense," I said, "Why should that make me want to join you?"

"Because, Jane," Olaf said, "my troupe is about welcoming those who aren't welcome anywhere else. In my troupe, you'll be apart of something. You could make others pay for what you've lost. The world isn't all black and white, Jane. Just like people aren't either good or evil. I knew both sides of your mother. In fact, you might not have enjoyed the thought of your mother being _wicked_. But you're no different from the person she was. She was just as alone as you and then she made the decision to join me to fight fire with fire. I think I changed her life for the better."

"Is that why you're so villainous?" I said, softly. "Because you know what it's like to suffer?"

Olaf's eyes darkened for a moment and then they were back to normal. "If you joined me, Jane, you won't be forgotten," Olaf said, "You're a bright girl and you can act. Besides, wouldn't you rather be with your real family?"

"I've always wanted to be with my family," I admitted.

"Then what is holding you back?" Olaf said, "What reason could you have for not joining me?" Olaf leaned forward so his face was close enough for me to smell his horrid breath. "What do you have to lose?"

I fumbled in my brain for the right words to say. 'What did I have to lose?' I thought. But I found nothing. Olaf was right. Even if I chose a different path, what was the point when I had nothing. If I tried to escape and follow through with that plan to take over the submarine, where would I go? Sure, I could go to Hotel Denouement, but I would still be a stranger to everyone. I wouldn't be able to decide who was a friend or foe. And I was just a poor orphan girl, parentless before I was barely two years old and alone. It was like that suffocating feeling that consumed me whenever I was claustrophobic. As if I were reaching for something that wasn't there. I was alone and I always have been. The Baudelaires _had_ abandoned me here. Afterall, Klaus said we were strangers. And their abandonment hurt more than when Kate and Christina humiliated me in front of everyone. It hurt more than when I found out Esmé wasn't the nice guardian I had thought her to be and it hurt more than when I found out Monty Kensicle lied about his identity to me. It felt like everyone was leaving me behind. And this was a truth that I had to face. The Baudelaires hated me. They abandoned me. Maybe Count Olaf was right. I'd lost the only people worth fighting for so what was the point of trying to be good anymore? I wanted to agree with Olaf so I could do something that could help erase all of my pain. Still, I knew what that kind of agreement entailed and I was afraid of where it might lead me. Nevertheless, where else could I go? What other choice did I have? What did I have to lose?

"I've lost everything," I said tearfully.

"I know," Olaf said, sounding sympathetic and patting the top of my head.

I looked up at the villain and my heart grew heavy. "Okay," I said, feeling resigned as I pushed back all of my fear. "I'll join you."

* * *

><p><strong>Review!<strong>

**Also, i've always wondered why Sunny seems to know more French words than English words lol**

**TPP and The End will be published as a separate story so look out for that soon! I'm sooo excited that i've made it soo far in this story! Thanks to all you readers and of course all of my totally awesome reviews!**


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